


The large and the smol of it

by Kalee60



Series: Size Doesn't Matter [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky With The Good Hair, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Secrets, Shrunkyclunks, Switching, Top Steve Rogers, oblivious boys, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 63,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60/pseuds/Kalee60
Summary: Bucky, a freelance operative: codename Winter Soldier, has been working with the Avengers on the regular, which was great, he loved the extra cash, could hone skills he’d picked up in the army and no-one cared about his metal arm. Best of all he got to work with Captain America, a man out of time whose identity is shrouded in secret, which made having a big fat crush on him problematic, since no one knew the Winter Soldiers identity either. But this doesn't stop Bucky being drawn to Cap in a way he’d never felt before.So it’s a surprise when Natasha drops off a small injured mystery man 'Grant' to him for protection and to patch up, that he finds himself utterly taken with the snarky man. Feelings he couldn’t work out as Grant was the worst patient, stubborn as hell and pushed Bucky’s buttons in all the wrong (and right) ways. He needed to figure out who Grant was, and what he had to do with SHIELD before he either killed or kissed him stupid.Throw in Hydra’s infestation of SHIELD, unsanctioned science experiments, being hunted and keeping identities secret, all while trying not to fall helplessly in love with a man who had more secrets than the Pyramids. Bucky’s simple life was now anything but.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Size Doesn't Matter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650280
Comments: 497
Kudos: 859
Collections: Stucky: Canon Divergence





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all,
> 
> So yeah, honestly this story just blindsided me. Once I had the idea it followed me around for weeks until I started to jot it down. I wanted to try a multi chapter fic for these boys and for some reason it had to have Shrunkyclunks, yet also Shrinkyclinks with a huge dose of Identity Porn - ambitious - pffft, not at all… it would be a breeze...
> 
> *full disclosure I may or may not have rocked in the corner and threw my hands up in the air so many times during this, while questioning my sanity.
> 
> Thanks to [ darter_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) who pulled me back from the brink, who made this so much better and told me that people would like the concept - so, enjoy this hot mess of boys large and smol, which in my earliest outline said:
> 
> Cue Bucky having no idea he's protecting Steve Rogers (Captain fucking America) and thinking Steve's a barista at SHIELD and falling in love the whole time. 
> 
> Cue Steve Rogers not telling Bucky who he is because - damn, beefcake Bucky is his jam and he doesn't want to ruin what's happening between them.
> 
> **FYI - Steve is not a barista and please note, in this story no one at all knows (except a few select people) that Captain America is Steve Rogers - his face and civilian identity is secret (hence why Bucky doesn't recognise him!)

Bucky received the coded message at 0500 and immediately sprang into action, only a tiny bit annoyed that he wasn’t going to get the sleep-in he’d been craving. But to be fair, being called up to fight alongside the Avengers was a good enough reason not to grumble. He still grimaced though as he suited up and ensured his stash of a thousand knives sheathed to his body were all accounted for. They were, except for the one he’d snapped off in a Hydra goons kneecap the week before. He must remember to replace it.

Grabbing a breakfast bar and nuking a cold coffee from the pot he’d not finished the day before, he fled into the pre-dawn air.

‘Bleh,” he spat the coffee out as he made it to the street. Never fucking again. Bucky swore to himself that he’d start to have coffee standards and idly wondered if the Starbucks on the corner would care he was dressed in tactical gear and armed to the teeth. He’d best not risk it.

The sleek black SUV arrived a second later and Bucky slid into the back. Natasha Romanoff was already seated, looking like she’d been awake for hours, she looked good. Bucky looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, face down and the ground was gravel. He wasn’t a morning person. Especially with bitter, burnt coffee on his tongue.

Smirking, Natasha held out a cup of liquid gold for him to take. He may have snatched it; scratch that - _he did_ , if her little puff of surprised breath was an indication.

“You are fucking amazing.”

“I know.”

Bucky sat back and inhaled the hot drink, while watching the borough pass by at speeds he was certain should get them pulled over.

“What’s the Op?” he asked when he felt his voice wasn’t so gruff to sound as if he’d just woken up, which he had. But Natasha didn’t need to know that; he had to give off an air of adulthood around her. He _was_ technically an adult after all. In age.

She handed him a tablet and he quickly swiped through the plans of an underground bunker. Hydra. It was always Hydra.

Natasha had approached Bucky a year earlier, surprising the bejesus out of him while on an operation in Florence. He was on a rooftop at the time at four in the morning, about to take out a kingpin in a drug trafficking ring which had killed tens of teenagers across Italy and they were looking to expand their clientele to other parts of Europe. She sat with him, watched him take out the trash (who happened to be a Hydra operative), and afterwards offered him an off-the-book job fighting alongside the Avengers. He thought about it for less than a second before agreeing. People didn’t generally say no to the Black Widow.

That one operation, which what a fucking thrill - being picked up and thrown at buildings by Ironman was an adrenaline, laugh inducing highlight, turned into another fifteen over the course of the next 12 months. He didn’t go on all of their missions, not even coming close to helping in a quarter of them, but he’d been on enough that he was no longer off-book, he was officially an ally to be counted on. It was heady.

Fury liked his superior sniper skills (something he’d picked up in the army, unfortunately or fortunately, depending on the way you looked at life). The large SHIELD leader also liked the way Bucky fought in close combat. His hand to hand combat skills, impressive and brutal when needed. The fact Bucky also had a top of the range StarkTech prosthetic arm made of the lightest metal known to man which could take out steel pylons, was also a draw card he thought.

Something good had to come out of his honorable discharge and painful recovery five years earlier. And working with the worlds’ leading Superheros was just the ticket to get Bucky to stop taking obscure jobs in foreign countries ten months of the year to disappear and forget his troubles. Although he still did quite a few overseas solitary missions, his mother, Winifred and sister, Becca, liked he was home more often. They thought he sold encyclopedias. Well, no, not _actual_ encyclopedias, but he made his cover job sound so boring that is what they preferred to tell anyone who asked what James did for a living.

“Another Hydra base?” Bucky asked Natasha who was effortlessly typing something on her phone so quickly her fingers were a blur.

“Yep, cut one head off, two appear.”

He let silence fall again as he studied the base layout, stomach churning. He wasn’t nervous, hell no. He’d done more of these covert ops than he'd had hot meals, but he couldn’t help asking the question which turned his insides into knots.

“Who’s the team today?”

Natasha gave him a sharp considering look before returning to tapping on her phone. 

"Just the usual, you, me, Falcon, I think Tony is already there and Hawkeye.”

“Oh,” Bucky replied, feeling equal parts disappointed and relieved.

“Cap too.”

_Shit._ Bucky took a deep breath through his nose, glad he could regulate his heartbeat and keep his face neutral from years of training. 

“That okay?” Natsha asked, a hint of mirth in her voice.

Bucky knew she’d noticed the change in his demeanor, damn it. “Perfect, just seeing who I had to adapt to.”

She only hummed in response, brow arched perfectly. He did not fool her, not one iota. He instead continued to go through the plans of the base, marking spots in his head for the best defensive and offensive positions and studiously ignored the fact he’d be standing in front of Captain America in less than ten minutes. 

Not only standing in his space though, but being able to smell him (in a completely creepy way, he wasn’t ashamed to admit the man smelt amazing), working alongside him, watching those muscles ripple, hearing him strategise the most complex of plans in a voice dripping with sex. Yep, Bucky had it bad. 

He’d been crushing on Captain America for months now.

It didn’t matter that he had no idea who was under the Captains’ mask, because nothing would ever happen. Cap would never, _had never,_ even glanced at Bucky like he was something interesting, other than to ask questions on positioning and input on plans. To be fair, Bucky was always in full tactical gear and wore a mask and goggles which covered most of his face, something he felt comfortable with. He didn’t want anyone knowing his civilian face, except Natasha, and that wasn’t by choice. She’d broken into his apartment to check how good he was at dealing with hostile surprises and it wasn’t one of his finest fights. He slept naked and Natasha hadn’t stopped laughing for an hour. No-one needed to see a flacid cock whipping around in a fight. 

But he wore the mask mainly to keep his family safe and to minimise complications with the media knowing who he was. As did all the Avengers (Tony Stark aside). So far he’d been dubbed the Winter Soldier, a moniker he was okay with, he had after all only been spotted on operations during the snow so far. He was making it a personal mission to not be seen by the media in the warmer months. Summer Soldier sounded a little too close to ‘sweet summer child’ a nickname a feared operative should never have to be saddled with. 

One of the things he didn’t like about having a hidden identity, was that he had no idea what Captain America actually looked like under the mask. No one in the world knew, though he was certain Natasha and the other Avengers did. 

Bucky still had no idea how SHIELD managed to keep Caps face and civilian name a secret all these years. It was quite frankly terrifying that someone had the power to do so. Every week some new tabloid claimed to have a picture of the real Captain America, next to a headline proclaiming 'an alien impregnated my cat'. Bucky may have a few sneaky online subscriptions to said tabloids, just in case a blurry picture of Jensen Ackles actually turned out to be the elusive Captain. But so far no such luck. The only certainties he’d discovered: that Elvis really _was_ alive and living in Connecticut, and he had a hard-on for Jensen (which wasn’t a new development, but damn that man had cheekbones).

If Bucky were completely honest he was only pissed at not being in the inner sanctum of identity reveals because he had to jerk off to visions of a masked man with intense blue eyes and a honeyed voice rather than an actual face. It was probably better that way anyway. Bucky tended to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Side-eyeing Natasha who ignored him, Bucky couldn’t help wonder if she too had broken in on the Captain to try _his_ fighting skills out. Which begged the question - did he sleep naked?

His brain stalled a moment on that.

"You ready, James?"

Bucky pulled himself from his thoughts and gave Natasha a wolfish grin before pulling his mask and goggles down.

"Lead on, my spider."

“Soldier, you in position? They’re headed your way.” Natasha’s voice came through his comm, low, sleek and not at all puffed. He knew for a fact she’d just kicked six Hydra operatives asses, he wondered if she was actually completely human.

He still didn’t understand why Natasha wouldn’t call him Bucky, like he’d told the rest of the team to. She refused to call him anything but James, and since he was incognito, she reverted to Soldier. He was slightly annoyed he’d blurted out his _actual_ nickname the first time they’d all worked together and was asked his call sign. He was blaming his lapse in judgment on huge broad shoulders, which were attached to the beefiest chest in known existence. He’d never felt an all encompassing desire to be manhandled in his life, and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything _but_ being pinned under the truck of a human before him. Completely helpless - at his mercy.

“Soldier!” The curt voice brought him back. 

“Yep, ready.”

Fuck, he had to be on his game, especially in the middle of an operation, it’s things like that which could get you killled. He’d hidden himself in an overhead alcove which had the best view of the wide hallway; he was on orders of not ‘shoot to kill’ but to incapacitate. His gun was full of tranqs. SHIELD wanted to take as many Hydra operatives alive as possible for interrogation and hopefully deprogramming, if such a thing was possible. Bucky was happy with his orders to not kill, he preferred it that way.

“Bucky,” an impossibly deep voice reverberated through his skull and he closed his eyes briefly to get his equilibrium back at hearing his name pass through those lips. “I’m coming.”

_Well fuck_ , if that wasn’t just perfect. Now he was half hard and was never going to forget the Cap saying that exact parsel of words. Luckily, before things got too uncomfortable on his perch, thunderous footsteps filled the hall.

Captain America led the charge, shield sheathed on his back as he ran almost too fast for Bucky to keep an eye on while six, _no_ , eight Hydra goons gave chase. Bucky inhaled deeply, looking through the scope, centering himself and letting his fingertip lightly squeeze the trigger, once, twice… eight times. Exhaling he jumped up while dismantling and throwing his gun (carefully, it was like a baby to him) into a bag. It was packed up quicker than a blink, and he secured it on his back before dropping the fifteen feet to the floor, letting his knees take the force.

The only trouble with his exit strategy stood before him, and Bucky would usually enjoy a moment of kneeling before Captain Americas’ large… package. _Honestly,_ the man had to shove a sock down the front of his pants, because if he didn’t, then RIP Bucky Barnes.

“Incoming.” The monolith before him murmured as an entire troop of Hydra operatives filled the hall, uncaring for the fallen comrades they trampled over. Cap grabbed Bucky’s shoulder and yanked him from the ground, throwing him behind his huge frame like a child needing protection.

Well, screw that.

Bucky, ignoring the choke of protest beside him, threw himself into the fight, blocking, kicking and ignoring the whole time the litany of swear words from Cap at him not staying put.

“Does the world know you use the word motherfucker? A lot. I’m shocked.” Bucky managed to rasp as he rammed his palm up into a man’s nose. He dropped - out cold.

“Only towards people who don’t listen.”

"Well then, the President must _love_ your potty mouth."

Bucky heard the surprised huff of laughter next to him and felt proud he’d managed to amuse the man. Score one for Barnes.

They fought well together, taking out all operatives in under a minute, the shield remained on Cap’s back; the space too tight to utilise it. Natasha ran around the corner moments later, slipping a USB into her pocket (which couldn’t possibly exist, as her suit was beyond skin-tight). Yet like all things Natasha did, she managed it.

“Nice work boys, let’s pick the best of the bunch and load them into the quinjet. Tony’s about to blow the lower levels and Falcon is dealing with the pesky surveillance team on the roof.”

In the end they took six Hydra operatives for interrogation, leaving the rest for the SHIELD police to process. Bucky was never going to admit watching Captain America lift up and carry four people at once to the quinjet made him hot and bothered. People didn't need to know his weakness. But, fuck it - it was hot.

Somehow in this one operation, he'd gained more images and sound bites to fuel his perverted Cap fantasies for months… years even. He was an awful human being. But one who'd heard Captain America mutter, 'I'm coming'. 

All in all, it was a good days' work.

The jet ride home was physically uncomfortable, Bucky sweated so much under his mask and goggles all he wanted to do was take them off and douse his face with water. But he couldn’t. Not without outing himself. It wasn’t like he was famous and would be recognisable, but since he wasn’t privy to the other Avengers faces, then he would play the long game as well. If it was a leap year, he might think about exposing himself first, but it wasn’t - so he sweltered under the hard face apparatus.

“Nice work today Pal, you fight well in close quarters. I’m glad to have you at my six.”

Bucky swallowed hard and turned towards the walking brick wall who sat next to him. Cap _never_ sat with him. He was always up front with Natasha and Hawkeye.

“Err, no worries…” He said thickly, not used to being this close without fighting, which was why his brain to mouth filter had clearly turned off, “but…” 

“What?” Cap questioned when Bucky trailed off. Christ, don’t say it.

“Well, you leave your left side open. I’ve noticed it for a few fights now, so you should be careful of that. I mean, I always have your back, but I’m not on every operation you do. And you kind of have a habit of throwing yourself bodily into every melee known to man… it’s unexpected, but I guess you always do it - so technically it’s kind of expected. But we have no idea _when_ you’re about to throw caution to the wind and just... and I’m being rude, right?”

Cap stared unblinkingly at him, his jaw tight and Bucky ducked his chin mortified that he’d just schooled Captain America on his fighting skills and where he lacked them. Before he could apologise and ready himself to be kicked off the team, a deep rich laugh filled the space.

Wide-eyed, Bucky lifted his gaze and watched entranced as the man beside him continued to laugh, deeply and full of mirth. It was fucking mesmerising. He expected unicorns to fly down from the heavens and shower Bucky in love hearts to match the ones he knew shone from his eyes. Thank god he was wearing goggles. Jesus Christ - he needed to get a grip.

“You’re alright, Buck you know that?” Cap paused and Bucky wished the blue of his eyes weren’t muted through the dark lenses of his Cap mask, he had a feeling they were vividly bright. “You tell it like it is. That’s why I request you on my missions.”

Almost choking, Bucky coughed in surprise, what in hell? Cap _requested_ him, it wasn’t Natasha screwing around.

“Cool.”

What. In. Heavens. Name. Was. That? Cool? _Cool?_ James Buchanen Barnes had absolutely no chill. Thankfully his facial expressions were hidden, as he was the biggest numpty in the history of Avenger team-ups.

Having nothing left to do except say more stupid shit, Bucky pulled his hair out of its bun and shook it free. If he couldn’t drag his hands across his face to relieve some of his nerves, he’d do the next best thing. Hanging his head forward so it was between his knees, he ran his hands through his hair lightly massaging his scalp as he did, before throwing his head back, hair flying everywhere as sat up straight.

Deftly he re-bunned his hair and wriggled to get comfy in the quinjet seat, they were not made for sitting in one place for long periods of time. Maybe he could bring a little cushion next time, the thought made him smile. He would make sure it was floral with little ties so it wouldn’t move from where he wanted it.

The soft, ‘holy shit’, from beside him pulled him from his thoughts on shopping at the Home Depot, and he turned to see Cap watching him, cheeks pink below the mask, eyes wide and the hint of a tongue poking out to lick his lips. Bucky’s heartbeat immediately skyrocketed.

“Err…” Cap started then stopped.

Bucky raised a brow, the only thing Cap _could_ see of his face. The man just floundered a second before pointing at Bucky’s metal arm.

“Your hand, the prosthetic, you have full dexterity in it? I mean you managed that hair thing easily…”

At Bucky’s nod, he gave a small smile, cheeks still stained.

“That’s good, I mean Tony’s tech still astounds me, but it’s great to see something he’s done which helps everyday people.”

“Everyday people?” Bucky repeated.

“Oh, I don’t think _you’re_ everyday people, far from it. I just mean the tech from your arm is used in his medical line.”

“Without the ability to knock walls down, or the machine gun and can opener function I hope.”

“You can open cans?”

“I’m a functioning adult so I hope so. There is no attachment for a gun or a canopener, but I might ask Tony next time I’m in the lab getting an upgrade.”

The Cap grinned then gave him a considering look, “have you had it long?”

Bucky paused, it wasn’t information he usually volunteered, but he _was_ talking to a fellow soldier.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to - I get it. I really do.”

Knowing he really did understand made it easier to speak. “No, it’s okay. It was The Middle East, I’d best not say where, classified, but a bomb went off outside a building full of civilians. My team and I were trying to evacuate them as quick as possible as the ground floor walls were buckling. We managed to get everyone out, but I was doing the last sweep. Wall came down and I was trapped. When I came to, the arm was gone. Got into the Stark program a couple of months later, and the rest is history.”

“Buck… I, well - that’s shit.”

He was glad the Cap didn’t start with pity or apologies that it happened to him. It was refreshing. “Yep, but hey - could’ve been worse. We saved a lot of lives that day and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if need be.”

“You’re something else, you know.”

Bucky tried to decipher what he meant by that but couldn’t. “Not gonna lie, wasn’t all roses getting this thing. Took a long time and a lot of therapy. But it’s good to be useful, use the skills I picked up in the army for good - helping SHIELD and, well - you.”

A huge hand landed on his shoulder making Bucky start, the fingers squeezing lightly. He didn’t let go though and his breath caught in his throat as Cap licked his lips once more and went to speak.

“Soldier, this is your drop.”

Natasha’s voice broke the spell and Bucky watched as Cap shook his head and glanced away, hand dropping.

“Thanks.” he managed and jumped up, wanting to say something, but had absolutely no idea what. He didn’t think asking Captain America back to his house for a game of ‘hide the salami’ was appropriate, or if he even swung Bucky’s way. Hell, the guy could be married for all he knew.

Natasha stalked back to where Bucky waited for the hatch to open so it could drop him off on top of a building near to where he lived, and he glanced at her.

“Payment will be wired as usual,’ she said, before a predatory grin replaced her smirk, “enjoy your cold shower, Soldier.”

Bucky flipped her the bird as he dropped from her line of vision to the concrete below. He hoped he didn’t have to see her or her gloating face for at least a month.

Three days later Natasha was on his doorstep, dirty and exhausted.

“What the hell, Romanoff?”

She glanced both ways before looking back at Bucky, the expression on her face unreadable. But what he could see, worried him. Natasha looked rattled. And that was monumental. Nothing rattled the Black Widow.

“Can we come in please, James?”

Bucky felt his eyes widen as he frowned, Nat was alone from what he could tell. “We?”

She gestured to her right and Bucky hadn’t even noticed the slight figure slumped against his hallway wall. Shit, the boy… no, man, looked worse for wear and he immediately opened his door wide and came out to scoop him up. He was heavier than he looked but still light as a feather with Bucky’s enhanced arm. The blonde was unconscious, face black and blue. What in the hell happened, and who was he?

Natasha preceded him into the apartment and watched with an eagle eye as Bucky laid him out on the couch, pillow under his head. He looked tiny on the huge leather monstrosity, the blackness of the surface highlighting exactly how pale and beaten up he was. Bucky winced and went to grab ice in a teatowel, the black eye looked nasty, so swollen he wouldn’t be able to open it properly for a few days.

“What the fuck?” he hissed as Natasha grabbed the ice from him and sat on the floor next to the couch, applying the compress lightly to the man’s eye with a look on her face which almost made Bucky turn to the side. She cared deeply for whoever this man was.

Natasha sighed heavily and looked up at Bucky who gestured helplessly between her and the body.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning perhaps?”

“I.. shit - I can’t, it’s too highly classified.”

“Well, why the fuck are you here?”

Natasha was quiet for a moment as she moved the man’s arm into a more comfortable position and changed the ice pack to the opposite cheek which was blooming in purple.

“I had nowhere else to go, everywhere is compromised.”

Bucky exhaled and went to his fridge grabbing out the bottle of vodka from his freezer and two glasses. Natasha took one gratefully and slammed it back in one go, then gestured for a refill. He complied.

“What _can_ you tell me then?” He sat heavily on the single seater and waited.

After what felt like ten minutes but was probably less than two, Natasha inhaled and let out an unsteady breath.

“SHIELD is compromised. Hydra were right under our noses the whole time. I don’t know who to trust, I might not even be able to trust you.”

Bucky made a sign of annoyance and she raised a hand to stop him.

“James, you're all I have. Can I trust you?”

Knowing his answer couldn’t be off-hand or joking, he looked into her green eyes and nodded once. The way her shoulders slumped in relief meant he’d done the right thing.

“This is not explaining who the man is and why he’s on my couch. Is he... yours?” He didn’t know how to put it more delicately.

Natasha smiled softly and Bucky almost fell off the chair at the sight. “No, not in that way, but he _is_ a dear friend and I need you to look after him, keep him safe while the rest of us take back SHIELD, or dismantle it.”

“I can help. I don’t need to babysit someone, surely -”

“- no. I know it doesn’t look like it, but this man… he’s… important. Really important. I can’t tell you more than that. I’m sorry - I wish I could. But you looking after him, ensuring he’s safe and keeping him from the action, is more crucial than fighting with us.”

Pausing, Natasha motioned for another refill. He couldn't help but notice the way she phrased 'keeping him from the action'. It looked like he'd seen way too much already and surely he wouldn't want to seek out a fight. 

He needed a few more vodkas’ himself. This was getting odder.

“Can I know his name at least?”

The pause was telling, but he'd let Natasha keep her secrets. For now. “Grant.”

“Okay, and this… Grant - when he wakes up, will he know where he is? Who I am?”

Natasha stood up and motioned for Bucky to take over with the ice, which he did. “I don’t know what he will remember after the fight, the SHIELD headquarters came down, there was so much going on. Fuck they had some raygun that, well it wasn't pretty. It did awful things to some people..."

Bucky watched her pace, restless, angry and looking to punch something. He'd been there. Too often.

"I told him I was taking him somewhere safe that’s all. He was hit with something, we don’t know exactly how he’s going to be, what he will remember. He's been out for most of the day."

“Shit, yeah, Nat. I got him. Whatever you need. If it gets too hot here, I have a safe house in the Mountains.”

“Don’t tell me where, just in case I’m compromised.”

“Roger that.”

“I have to go. I’ll be in touch when I can.”

He stood up and followed her to the door, she glanced back at the couch.

“Good luck, James. I think you’ll need it.”

He waved her out, wondering on the cryptic parting words and locked the door, making his way back over to the couch. Bucky looked down at the man, noticing that the eyelashes on his good eye were incredibly long. What an odd thing to notice on a stranger, especially one beaten six ways to hell.

“Alright, Grant. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bucky felt something stir deep in his gut, he _knew_ this Grant was going to be trouble in some way. He just didn’t know in what capacity yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the amazing reponse so far - on only just the first chapter!
> 
> I'm absolutely humbled and very excited for you all to see where the adventure takes these boys!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy a little stubborn Steve! :)

Bucky spent the next day checking Grants breathing, noticing the way it hitched and strangled every so often. He couldn’t help worrying that a shard of rib had busted off and was digging into his lungs, which would mean more care than Bucky could give. Trying not to feel like a damn nurse maid, as he couldn't even figure out what cough syrup to use when he was sick himself, he tried to think methodically on how to help Grant.

The breathing was obviously his first concern, so ignoring the fact Grant couldn't give consent as he was out cold, Bucky gingerly lifted the oversized t-shirt to check for visible signs of internal damage. Grant's wiry yet slightly muscled body surprised him, not what he was expecting at all, but the myriad of bruises which spread unrelenting and angry across his chest, like he’d caught a targeted attack, grabbed his attention - so he didn't think on his reaction too hard. 

One thing was certain though - Grant had taken a hell of a beating. 

Bucky couldn't see anything indicating broken ribs and deftly checked by running his hands over them impartially. Grant was knocked about, but nothing felt broken under his fingers, though he was most definitely not a doctor. Bucky smiled fondly, remembering his entire unit agreeing he was the worst ever field medic who couldn't even splint a finger. Seriously, he'd messed it up once, once! Just because Falsworth ended up with a crooked middle finger - which Bucky thought lent him a certain charm, especially when it was pointed at him - which to be fair, was a lot. They’d never let him forget how terrible he was.

But Grant didn't  _ have _ a broken finger, he was just… broken - but how bad?

Checking the rest of Grant quickly, he found no other signs of considerable damage, thankful it appeared superficial. But he still hadn't stirred, which worried him as internal head injuries could be well concealed. Bucky grimaced when he got to Grant's hands, as the welts and lacerations on his fists and knuckles meant he’d fought back desperately.

A crackle from Grant's lungs as he inhaled deeply, brought Bucky out of his thoughts, the rasp sounded awfully familiar, like how Becca got when her asthma was playing up. 

"Alright, bud - I think I've got something that could help when you wake up." Bucky felt silly at first speaking to the unconscious man, but found it soothing to rattle off what he was doing. Well almost everything, he wasn't about to be caught talking about scratching his balls to find Grant had meanwhile woken up.

Heading to the bathroom, he rooted around in the medicine cabinet for a moment before triumphantly calling out, asthma inhaler in hand. Checking the date he was pleased it still had a month left, and he’d text Becca to remind her to replace it next time she came over; he’d always kept one on hand for her visits just in case. Grant might not need it, but he felt better at having it ready to go if required.

He cursed Natasha for the hundredth time in twenty minutes for not giving him any information on Grant and the extent of his injuries,  _ or _ if there were any preexisting conditions he should be made aware of. She'd not replied to any of his encrypted texts yet either and he had to assume her phone had been compromised, or more likely she was just being Natasha and unless he texted that he'd lost his other arm, she'd ignore it.

The night before, Bucky moved Grant to his bed and tried to sleep on the couch, which after an hour of getting up to constantly check on him, meant it was easier to move a chair in and doze sitting up. He’d hoped Grant wouldn’t wake in a panic, having no idea where he was, but his blonde head didn’t move and Bucky was exhausted for his efforts.

Hovering like an idiot, because what else was he supposed to do, he had time to see that the clothes Grant wore were clearly made for someone larger. The purple t-shirt proclaiming ‘Pizza da Hut is my spirit animal’ not really fitting the idea of what Bucky had in his mind on who Grant might be (not that he had a clue at all, barista maybe?) The jeans huge and loose and held up with a battered leather belt, an extra loop hole punched into it (by an arrowhead) also didn’t quite go. What had happened to Grant for him to be so dishevelled, and to be clearly wearing Hawkeyes offcuts? Or in Hawkeyes' case it could be his Sunday best.

Hoping he wasn't overstepping his duty of care, but also wanting to ensure Grant was well and truly covered for all situations when he woke, Bucky trawled through his closet to find a box of old clothes from when he was a teenager. It was full of old band tees, basketball shorts and skinny jeans from when he was smaller. Things he’d kept for some reason and pushed to the back of his closet for later. That had been two years earlier. It seemed he’d been hanging on to it for this exact occasion. Rather convenient, but handy.

“Hope you’re a rock music fan, pal - too bad if not, I guess.” Bucky rambled as he left a bundle of clothing on the chair in the corner. “If you like Britney Spears, I’m not sure you can stay…”

Grant quite surprisingly didn’t respond.

Having done everything he could think of for when Grant woke up, he made a lacklustre coffee and spent a long time on the internet, looking up news reports and following the stream of information coming out of SHIELD from his contacts. He wasn’t going to reach out though, taking Natasha’s warning on trust to heart and until he knew exactly what was going on, he’d stay put. Look after Grant. 

Natasha wasn’t one to ask for anything, so when she did - Bucky would do his damndest to follow through on her wishes.

From all accounts, it appeared Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD at the highest level and as Bucky read through the information, he felt sick in the gut. So many lives lost, for what? A sect of rich assholes who wanted more money, power and a big fuck-off yacht in the Greek islands. Bucky knew people could be the worst versions of themselves, had seen it first hand, but the destruction and mayhem this had caused already was completely ridiculous and unnecessary.

Just as Bucky was about to explode in rage over an unsubstantiated report that a troop had been captured, he heard a small whimper from the bedroom and was on his feet barrelling through the door a second later.

Grant was thrashing, finally coming out of his forced healing state. Bucky came to kneel beside the bed and placed a steadying hand on Grant’s bicep, wanting to support but also not loom over him. He’d been in enough situations of waking up to strangers in his hospital room to know that it wasn’t conducive to your mental health to be confronted like that. He just hoped Grant wouldn’t be too scared.

“Who the fuck are you?” An impossibly deep voice rasped before a coughing fit took over at the dryness in his throat.

Well then, not scared.

“Here, drink this.” Bucky held a water bottle up to Grant’s lips who frowned in annoyance before trying to grab the bottle himself, wincing when his hands wouldn’t respond and he almost dropped everything.

“Hey, Champ, just - look, just let me do this, you’ve been in a bit of a scrap and you’re probably weak from lack of nutrients.”

The harsh ‘pffft’ which came from Grant’s lips almost made Bucky smile. It reminded Bucky of himself.

“You’ve been unconscious for about a day and a half - I think. Give yourself a second.” He tried again soothingly.

Grant’s eyes narrowed, and even in the semi-darkness of the room, Bucky could tell through the swelling and puffiness they were huge and very, very blue. He was a sucker for blue eyes. Which was a completely inappropriate thought to have about someone in his care. 

Grant allowed him to hold the bottle, but Bucky could tell by the set of his jaw he wasn’t happy about it. After he’d had his fill, Grant pulled himself up on the pillow with shaky arms, Bucky refrained from helping when he faltered a few times, growls of frustration escaping Grant’s throat. He knew trying to assist wouldn’t be welcome, knew it first hand, but his fingers still twitched with the need to.

“So? You are? And I am, where exactly?” Grant demanded, and his voice really  _ was _ rich and deep, it wasn’t just from underuse. Bucky didn’t know what to do with that morsel of information, or the fact that his words held such command. Who  _ was  _ this man?

“Uh, well, I’m James. Natasha brought you here to my apartment yesterday morning. Grant is it?”

The blonde considered him for a moment, a steady uncompromising look, until a quick flash of uncertainty passed through his eyes and Bucky knew he was about to be lied to. Grant finally inhaled, and grabbed for the water again, hands steadier. He looked back at Bucky, sizing him up, squinting his good eye a little, which made Bucky realise it was fairly dark in the room.

“Yeah, I’m… Grant. Natasha brought me here? Why wouldn’t she have taken me to…” He trailed off.

Bucky stood up and opened the curtains a little to let in some natural light, before turning back. Grant was watching his movements warily and Bucky couldn’t blame him. He’d just woken up in a stranger’s bedroom, injured and Bucky wasn’t exactly a small guy.

“SHIELD has fallen, I don’t think she  _ could _ take you anywhere else.”

“Why you?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t be obtuse,” the snappy retort nice to hear. It meant Grant was at least well enough to follow a conversation, the head injury was looking less likely. “I mean why would she drop me off at a strangers’ place?”

“Look pal, I don’t know. But I’ve known Natasha for a year or two - so I guess she trusts me.”

Grant sat up straighter, eyes narrowed as he looked Bucky up and down. He was glad he’d thought to wear a long sleeved t-shirt and his flesh glove, he didn’t need to freak Grant out anymore than necessary (though he seemed eerily calm as it were). A solid metal arm could unnerve even the strongest of dispositions. 

He allowed Grant to stare unabashedly, to figure him out. It felt rather intimate with him lying in Bucky’s bed though.

“A year or two? I’ve never heard of you.”

“To be fair - she’s never mentioned you either.”

That made the blonde pause for a moment.

“Right, well thanks for the…” he looked around and must have finally realised he was in Bucky’s actual bed, because the unexpected flush that infused his cheeks was, quite frankly, fascinating. What was Bucky's deal, it had to be lack of sleep? He was never this,  _ aware _ of anyone. Well, except for The Cap, but that was a completely different scenario. A completely different person.

“...for the place to recover. But, I gotta go.” Grant finished.

Bucky couldn’t help it, he laughed - loudly. The wide-eyed look of surprise he received gratifying. The glare which followed, less so.

“Be my guest,” he said, and gestured towards the door, watching keenly as Grant scowled then threw the covers back like a defiant child. Kudos to him, he managed to shakily swing his legs so his feet hit the ground before attempting to stand up, falling flat on his ass on the bed a second later. The snarl of irritation that escaped his throat was not directed at Bucky, but at the situation. Bucky should not have felt validated at being right though and unfortunately Grant must have sensed his smugness because the dark side-eye he got in return, was just plain rude. Luckily he had thick skin.

“How about I get you something to eat, I have soup ready to go and see how you feel after that.” Bucky moved towards the door and watched in interest as Grant cocked his head slightly to follow him. It was something Bucky had seen soldiers who’d suffered tinnitus do, maybe Grant had hearing issues. He once again had no idea how Grant ended up in a fight which injured him so. It was baffling.

“Fine, do what you have to, I’ll be leaving after though.” Grants stubbornness was not unlike a tiny lion cub growling for the first time.

“Sure thing. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Bucky said, smile curving at his lips.

When Bucky returned, Grant was unsurprisingly fast asleep again. He tucked his large gangly feet back up under the blanket and transferred the soup to a travel mug which would keep it warm for a few hours, leaving it by the bedside.

Heading back to the lounge, Bucky had a lot to mull over. Grant was not the scared, meek and mild mannered person he’d assumed. Who the hell was he and what did he do for SHIELD? Bucky had no idea, he'd just have to wait for Grant to wake up properly and find out then. If he told the truth, that was.

Four hours later, Bucky heard a noise from the bedroom, placed the book he was reading down and waited. Watching the door, he saw Grant poke his head out and duck back when he realised Bucky was there. What did this guy think he could do - slip past him into the night? Not likely.

"Toilets the second door on the left," he volunteered and heard a grunt in response before the snick of the bathroom door shutting filtered down the hall. Grant was clearly not a morning person, or well, late evening person. But it was good to see him up and walking.

Bucky in the meantime grabbed the electrolytes, a mild painkiller and an extra cushion for the couch, because he was nice like that. And he wanted Grant to be comfy when he questioned him.

A few minutes later Grant reappeared, shuffling along, obviously in pain but when Bucky stood up to help him, the glare was enough to make even a tank stop mid-strike. There was something commanding about this small man and Bucky was completely intrigued.

Grant sank into the couch and looked around, examining the lounge room, eyes darting and Bucky saw him note the exits - it’s something he would have done. More questions were added to his lengthy list. Bucky tried to see the space from someone else's point of view, it was homey he guessed, pictures of family, a few with friends, some nerdy memorabilia (he loved his Lego Millennium Falcon) and the biggest couch and TV he could afford. And while Grant surreptitiously stared at a photo of Bucky and his sister taken at the beach a few years earlier, Bucky observed _ him _ , trying to get his mettle. It was odd, he really couldn't get a read on the guy.

Grant’s swollen eye from the day before clearly wasn't as bad as Bucky first thought, because even though it was still puffy and mottled in colour and looked downright painful as all get out, it hadn't closed up Grant's vision completely. Which was a good thing as it wasn’t likely there would be any further damage to deal with.

Bucky watched as Grant's blonde hair flopped in his eyes, only for him to push it away in annoyance like he wasn't used to it hanging in his face, repeating the process a few times before giving up with a heavy sigh. His straight nose and sharp chin, instead of making him appear beaky somehow paired with his deep blue eyes, just made him - well, pretty, in a masculine way that Bucky had never seen before. It was interesting and he found it hard to drag his eyes away from the way Grant held himself.

"What are you staring at, never seen a frail, half deaf asthmatic before?"

And he had the personality of an ass.

Bucky exhaled, and gestured to the inhaler on the coffee table, "I thought I heard your breathing rattling earlier, so if you need it. It's there. Not sure what script you use but it should give relief if your chest gets tight."

Grant looked between the inhaler and Bucky for a moment, eyes widening imperceptibly in shock, as if the small act of kindness was unfathomable. He opened and closed his mouth without saying a word, before crossing his arms over his chest defiantly silent. Jesus, he was stubborn.

"There's also a glass of electrolytes there too and some painkillers if you want, you're probably dehydrated, might make you feel a bit better."

"I don't need a fucking mother-hen." Grant snapped and threw his head back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling.  _ Oh _ , so he wasn’t above having tantrums, good to know.

Waves of frustration poured off Grant. Bucky  _ wanted _ to sympathize, but he was starting to get pissed. He decided right then that he was never going to help Nat out again. 

"Do I look like a  _ fucking _ mother-hen to you?"

Grant’s head swiveled toward him, nostrils flaring as he swallowed whatever words he'd been about to utter. His good eye roved over him, unyielding in it’s appraisal and Bucky felt himself wanting to squirm under the scrutiny. For only having one fully functioning eye, Grant certainly packed a whammy with his intense gaze. It was like he was looking through Bucky, seeing his innards, seeing what made him tick. 

Grant's gaze hovered over his hair which he had pulled back before flicking to his face, mapping it, seeing if it was familiar. Bucky had given that stare many times in his career and he wondered suddenly if Grant was army. But he couldn't be, he wouldn't have passed the physical. But there was some form of military mixed up in him.

"No, you look like a damn hipster."

"Nice come back, what are you, a hundred?" Bucky retorted, his reply just as bad.

"Yep, and I feel every year of it today. Fuck. I'd forgotten what this felt like."

"What, being beaten six ways to Sunday?"

Grant paused and scrubbed a hand carefully over his face, wincing when he got to the sore spots.

"Yeah, that too."

"What do you do for SHIELD?"

"You don't want to buy me a drink first, butter me up before your interrogation?" Grant replied with the beginnings of a sneer. He grabbed the glass of electrolytes, cheersing Bucky sarcastically and drank deeply, leaving the painkiller untouched. 

Bucky wasn't worried about the bravado, wouldn’t be put off, he had questions and he damned well deserved some answers. He was after all sticking his neck out here,  _ if _ Grant was important as Natasha alluded.

"Analyst? Nuclear warheads code administrator? Head of the waste disposal units?"

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm a janitor?"

"To be fair, I asked if you were a few things in there."

"It's classified." Grant replied matter of fact. Fine, it was an expected answer.

"Okay then, what were Hydra after?"

"It's classified."

The silence that descended was telling. But he'd try again, having a feeling Grant wasn't going to answer on principle now. Damn it.

“Why were you beaten up?”

“It’s classified.” Grant took another sip of his drink, his look goading Bucky. His patience was now threadbare.

"What's your relationship with Natasha?"

"It's -"

"- if you damn well say it's classified, I'm going to poke you in that huge bruise on your ribs."

Grant's eyes widened as much as they could, and his hand unconsciously covered the bruise. He looked scandalised that Bucky knew about it, had seen it. Bucky had caught him off guard. Good. Then the little shit chewed his bottom lip and Bucky knew he was about to lie again.

"I see her around sometimes, hardly know each other."

Bucky scoffed and stood up, "If you're going to lie, pal, at least do it convincingly."

"I'm not -"

" - Grant, or whatever your name is, spare me. I'm not an idiot. Natasha is worried sick about you and tasked me to keep you out of trouble. Now you don't have to like it," he ignored Grants huff of derision, "but I'm damned well going to keep my word to her. Whoever the fuck you are, she thinks you’re important. So just lie low until this blows over."

"I don't want to lie low damn you, I should be fighting, I should be helping!" He exclaimed, giving Bucky more personal information in the outburst than his questioning garnered. 

So, Grant was a doer, someone who wanted to be in the thick of it, who felt responsible. Grant’s fists were clenched so tight in frustration, Bucky noticed blood from a graze had opened up. He grabbed some tissues and passed them over.

"Yeah, well same here, but we all have our part to play. Even if it's not on the front line."

Grant eyed the proffered tissues, refusing them petulantly. And Bucky suddenly had enough of this punk for one evening. He'd thought to get answers but instead he got an obtuse almost thirty year old who was too stubborn and too obnoxious to answer questions straight. For fucks sake, could he not tell that Bucky wasn’t the enemy?

"Look, I'm going to have a hot shower, remotes there if you want to watch something and the doors over there if you want to leave. But just know, I'm not the bad guy here and we  _ will _ fight back in whatever capacity we can. You just need to recover first and get rid of that bad attitude. It's not helping anyone."

Leaving a shocked Grant sitting on the couch, Bucky stalked to his room to grab some clothes, annoyed at losing his cool and for failing to get any usable information. He had no idea if Grant would flee and what the repercussions from Nat would be if he did, but when he got out of the shower half an hour later he noticed a lump under the bed covers and smiled to himself. Tomorrow was another day, maybe he would get answers in the morning.

Bucky slept late, well, late for him. He also woke to the sound of someone in his kitchen and had a mild panic attack at having a person in his apartment. But then he remembered, he'd not picked up some random stranger for a night of loud sex (unfortunately), instead he had an injured spitfire blonde bunking down, who apparently brewed coffee that smelt like heaven.

"I don't know how you take it," Grant came in moments later, two steaming mugs in his bruised hands, voice flat, like he’d begrudgingly made Bucky a drink. Bucky didn’t care, because - coffee!

"However it comes is great, thanks." Bucky replied groggily, grasping one and took it for the peace offering he hoped it was. The sharp smell of caffeine infiltrated his senses and even without taking a sip he was more awake.

Grant went to sit on the single seater, but Bucky stopped him and sat up, motioning him to the other end of the couch.

"You should sit on that side."

Grant frowned, but made his way to the couch, "why's that?"

Bucky motioned to Grant's bad ear.

"Oh." Grant flushed unexpectedly, Bucky couldn't tell if he was pleased or embarrassed he’d taken his hearing into consideration. But he decided he liked the pink covering Grant’s cheeks in response.

"You feeling any better today?"

Grant shrugged, non committal. Did everything have to be like pulling teeth with him?

He threw a pillow over and gestured for him to use it, Grant ignored him and sat stiffly. For god’s sake.

"Look you're not well, just lay back and relax."

He saw Grant’s fingers tighten on the mug, before he ground out, "Fuck you."

"Excuse me?" Bucky asked incredulously.

"Don't tell me what to do."

Bucky growled in exasperation, "I'm just trying to make sure you don't damage yourself any further. That's all. It's not a damn personal attack. Just take it for what it is. Jesus H Christ, you are the prickliest person I've ever met."

Grant huffed a breath and stared out the window, which was fine, but they were five stories up and all you could see was sky, which would get really boring after about, a minute. Bucky watched as Grant squirmed and moved around a lot, as if he didn’t feel quite right in his skin, like he wasn't used to being sick; which was silly because clearly he wasn't in peak physical condition in the first place.

"Just,” he went silent and Bucky tried not to sit on the edge of his seat, was Grant about to… share? “This is not ideal,  _ none _ of it."

Bucky thought it a strange thing to say but he nodded in agreement. Regardless of what he’d meant, it  _ wasn’t _ an ideal situation.

Grant waved his hand towards Bucky, “I'm just… angry."

He visibly startled, knowing it was the closest to an apology he’d get, and saw the smallest beginnings of a not-scowl,  _ hell _ , was Grant almost smiling? Nah.

"I get it." He replied, knowing he was pushing his luck with his next words, “but you’re really not ready to rejoin the fight, in any capacity.”

"Not yet." Grant replied wry, and took a sip of coffee before arranging the cushion behind his back and snuggled down a bit. Bucky ducked his head to hide his pleased smirk.

“I guess I hadn’t really taken into consideration what waking up in a stranger's bed would be like.  _ Well _ , under these circumstances anyway.” Bucky teased and noted the way Grant’s cheeks darkened further at the connotation.  _ Interesting.  _ He took a sip of coffee and continued, “I think we got off to a bad start, I’m James and… shit, you make really good coffee - is this from  _ my _ machine?”

Grant gave a ghost of a smile, “your coffee too. I didn’t bring my own with me - not something you tend to shove in your jacket pocket before you pass out.”

Chuckling, Bucky relaxed into his chair and took another deep pull of coffee and moaned. How come he could never get it to taste this divine?

Putting the cup down, he untied his hair which would be a bird's nest after sleeping on the couch again and shook it free before tying it into a low pony. 

Looking over at Grant he saw him avert his gaze quickly, but not before squinting down at his own cup.

“Do you usually wear glasses?” He asked, curious.

It took Grant a few seconds to respond and he looked startled at Bucky's question. “Um, no, not anymore.”

“Oh, you just seem to be squinting a bit. Thought you might have lost them in the fight. Or are your eyes hurting?”

Grant just hummed noncommittal in response.

“Any chance you'll ever answer a question properly?” Bucky asked, trying to tamper down his annoyance. He felt like they were getting somewhere, albeit slowly, but better than the day before. “You are so  _ damn  _ frustrating.”

Grant smiled suddenly at his words and it completely transformed his face.  _ Fuck _ , he was gorgeous. What the hell? Was Bucky beginning to crush on this man, this completely aggravating person? He'd not felt such a physical pull since meeting Captain America a year earlier. It was disconcerting. And something he most definitely had to keep to himself.

“Honestly, I’m not good at opening up.”

“No shit,” Bucky replied offhand, trying to swallow his realisation he found Grant attractive.

Grant half smiled which abruptly turned into a wince and he grabbed his stomach in pain. Bucky was up and kneeling in front of him a second later. Judging by the shocked wide-eyed stare he received, Grant hadn’t expected him to move so quickly. He should be a little more careful, Grant wasn’t the only one withholding information.

“You okay, what’s going on?” Bucky grabbed his forearm and realised belatedly he’d used his left hand.

Grant looked down at it curiously, and he let go quickly, even though he had the skin on, it would have felt solid, too solid for flesh and bone.  _ Crap. _

“Uh, yeah - just got a strange pain, could be from the coffee. I’m okay.” Grant was lying again, but Bucky let him, “is it okay if I grab a bath? I feel filthy.”

“Shit, of course you can. I should’ve offered earlier. Give me a second and I’ll set it up, the taps stick a bit.”

He noticed Grant staring after him, an unusually thoughtful expression on his face as he fled the lounge. Bucky turned the taps on, throwing some lavender salts in which he’d heard were supposed to be relaxing. Who was he kidding, he knew exactly what lavender did and had an array of bath salts and gels - he adored lounging in the bath and knew exactly what ail each one soothed.

As the water filled, a vision of him climbing into the steaming tub to lay in Grant’s arms, having his hair washed with sure deft fingers flew through his mind and he stalled. Why was he the little spoon? Which wasn’t the important question, he should be asking why he felt such a tug of desire. Especially with someone who was clearly still recovering from injuries and was not interested in Bucky. It really had been too long since he got laid. That’s all.

Laying out a towel and some clothes in the bathroom, he came back to find Grant sitting on the edge of the couch, twisting the empty mug in his hands, deep in thought.

“It’s all ready, I’ve left some clothes out that should be okay - sorry, my underwear won’t fit. Er,” Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck, where was his filter? “Yeah…”   
Grant looked up and that wonderful flush had returned. Bucky kind of wanted to keep saying things to ensure it stayed put.

“I’ll be fine.” Grant made his way gingerly to the bathroom and shut the door with a soft click. Bucky waited a few moments before heading to the bedroom to strip the bed and change the sheets. As he passed the bathroom door he heard a little groan and tensed. 

“You okay in there, need any help?” He knocked lightly,  _ what the hell _ \- what was he even offering? He knew exactly what and facepalmed himself. He was supposed to not think about Grant in that way and less than ten minutes later he was trying to muscle into his bath.

“Uh, no,” a high pitched squeak replied, so very un-Grant like.

Not wanting to be even more of a creeper, Bucky left the hall and went to the kitchen to sort out lunch. He was still standing in front of the fridge with the door wide open ten minutes later, unable to shake the thought Grant was naked in his house.

Well fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky thought the unsolicited images that popped into his head every other hour about Grant were frustrating, but they had nothing on watching him walk around wearing some of Bucky's favourite old clothes.

The first day Grant had appeared from the bathroom wearing his soft overwashed Foo Fighters tour t-shirt he'd almost flipped out, having to physically restrain himself from claiming him. Which was absolute bullshit because Grant didn't seem to be someone who'd _want_ to be claimed, his entire demeanour screamed that he was the claimee.

So Bucky watched with hungry eyes and confusion swirling in his stomach over why he was so drawn to Grant, a man who had secrets - much more intriguing than his own.

Almost a full week of circling each other in close quarters, teasing out small snippets of information along with watching Grant walk around in his clothing had Bucky feeling much more possessive and on edge than he'd ever thought possible. It was driving him mad. He needed to get out of the apartment, gain some much needed clarity. But so far a quick jaunt to the local deli for supplies was all he’d managed, worried that Grant would disappear or he’d be seen outside and followed in the forefront of his mind. So he was stuck. In the apartment. With a man who was slowly driving him out of his mind with - what? Unrequited attraction, he guessed.

He hid his proclivity well though, but it became harder to act indifferent when he kept catching Grant out the corner of his eye watching him in return, glancing at him, like he was a puzzle to work out. He wondered if Grant felt the pull towards him in return, but so far the side-eye looks didn’t give anything away. Grant was definitely thinking hard about things, but if Bucky was part of it, he masked it well.

Bucky tried to compartmentalise his thoughts, but the realisation that he was finally attracted to someone other than The Cap washed over him. It had seemed for the longest time, he was only ever going to be interested in one person; Captain America eclipsing all others from the moment they fought together for the first time. The relief was short lived though because Grant was an asshole with the barest hint of softness (his new type apparently) and Bucky wasn't certain he was ever going to _know_ him. The circumstances of their meeting were extremely intense and he couldn't help but think if they'd met under a different guise, would he still feel this viceral pull?

"Food network?" Grant asked as he slid onto the couch, sitting with one leg drawn up against his chest, a cute bundle of smallness. Bucky nodded and looked back down at the book he was almost finished, ignoring the domesticity of the situation.

That was another thing, the last few days Grant seemed and acted more comfortably around him, no longer fighting tooth and nail about leaving, he was finally allowing himself to heal. Maybe after being beaten so thoroughly it had taken a few days for him to feel secure in his skin again. Bucky had seen him use the inhaler only once, but caught him holding his stomach on more than one occasion, though each time he asked about it, Grant changed the subject saying it was nothing. Bucky was keeping a mental note on how often it happened. Just in case.

As Nigella Lawson's deep sultry voice filled the room, Bucky glanced up at Grant watching the screen intently, unaware of Bucky’s heavy gaze.

The swelling on his face had all but disappeared, and the bruising now mottled yellows and light browns. Bucky's eyes flicked over the planes of Grant’s profile and dropped to his casual posture while he watched Nigella make pastry, his extended leg bouncing lightly against the couch. Grant’s healing had accomplished one thing for sure, it made Bucky all too aware of how damn beautiful he was. Inhaling raggedly he dropped his gaze and concentrated on his book, which went about as well as expected. He didn't read a thing.

Grabbing his laptop after a frustrating amount of time pretending to read, Bucky decided to check his communication lines and see what news had come out from the destruction of SHIELD. So far it had been relatively quiet. The first week after a take down usually was.

"The chatter is still disjointed but starting to heat up, my contacts are saying Hydra are looking for something." He remarked after about ten minutes.

Grant’s entire focus was suddenly on him and Bucky glanced up through the curtain of his hair, tucking one side behind his ear to see better. He watched in interest as Grant's eyes tracked the movement, before they slid back to his.

“You have contacts?” he asked offhandedly and Bucky knew he’d just blurted out something he shouldn't have. He'd become so used to sharing space with Grant and his steady presence, that he'd completely spaced and forgot to check his brain and mouth were on the same page. But fuck it, Grant wasn’t stupid, he had to know that Bucky was tangled up in SHIELD in some capacity, else why would he know Natasha? Yoga classes?

“Would you believe if I said I was a reporter and my contacts were feeding me information for an explosive new article?”

The half smile Grant gave him, made Bucky grin cheekily in return and he saw Grant's cheeks redden as he ducked his head. Bucky couldn't track the reaction but it made something inside of him lighten. It would be okay, Grant was allowed to know certain things, just not _everything_.

“Okay Clark Kent, if that’s how you want to play it.”

“I don’t wear glasses.” Bucky fired back.

“No you don’t, because then you’d look even more hipster-like, and baristas across New York would expire from your ridiculously sharp jawline paired with dark rimmed glasses.”

Bucky stilled, was that a compliment? Did Grant think he was attractive? He wasn’t blind and knew he was fairly well put together, though he didn’t think much on it, but the slight blonde hadn’t ever indicated _he_ thought so. Grant’s cheeks darkened further and he averted his gaze a second later, as if only just realising what he’d said out loud. Before Bucky could contemplate further on it, Grant kept speaking.

"Did your _contacts_ give any indication of what Hydra are looking for, any intel on their current movements?" The question came sharp, concise and Bucky knew immediately Grant was a strategist of some description. Each day he discovered another morsel of truth about the tough blonde. He tucked the information into his memory bank for later, along with the way Grant's eyes crinkled when Bucky made him smile (reluctantly) and that he drank coffee like it was water. It couldn't be good for him, so Bucky may have grabbed some decaf when he went to the shop, disguising it as Colombian full strength.

Instead of answering, Bucky stood up and landed on the couch beside Grant so he could see the laptop screen and read the intel himself. The warmth which cascaded up his side as he pressed close to the other man, unexpected. What did he _think_ would happen if he basically sat on him? Bucky was an idiot. He didn’t move though.

Grant leaned into him, frazzling Bucky to the extent his hand shook slightly as he clicked on a few photos he’d found of the decimated base. Taking a deep breath, Bucky centered himself and yelled into his brain to ‘act cool’. He’d been attracted to people before and it wasn’t a big deal.

“Shit…” Grant breathed out as he looked over the destruction.

“You’re lucky you got out.”

Grant stiffened up, “if Natasha hadn’t found me, well…”

Bucky was a little stunned that Grant didn't try and refute he was at SHIELD headquarters, they were taking all kinds of steps in the right direction of trust.

“You would have survived, you’re too fucking stubborn to die.” Bucky supplied trying to lighten the mood.

The sharp bark of laughter, deep and rumbling cascaded through Bucky’s body where they touched and flipped his stomach sideways. He managed to grin in return. It was nice - too nice. This new world of teasing without repercussions.

“True, but I feel better,” he looked up through his ridiculously long lashes and Bucky instantly knew Grant was playing to his strengths, and he wasn’t sure if he was pissed off he was being used or flattered. “I want to do more, _we_ need to do more.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky exhaled, knowing this was coming, that Grant would want, no, need to do something more than recover on Bucky's couch. He'd already thought about it and had been figuring out what they could do, other than, you know - kiss each other senseless (among other things) which wasn't on SHIELDs list of sanctioned operation modes. In this case Bucky thought it should be. He also was letting his imagination run rampant across his sensibilities. He blamed stupid guiless blue eyes.

"I agree.”

Grant looked shocked, clearly ready for more of a fight. He smiled brightly, genuinely and Bucky was gone, so very gone. _Shit._

“So let’s go.” Grant went to stand up and Bucky grasped his bicep to stop him, enjoying the feel of Grant under his fingers a little too much - he quickly let go.

“Alright hotshot, not so fast. You’re not an Avenger, so we need to think on what we can _actually_ do. Although I think you’d be a scrappy fighter and win eight times out of ten - you’re still healing and I'm not disobeying Natasha outright. There’s other stuff we can do.”

Grant looked pleased at his assessment of his skills but then scowled down at his own body as if to confirm that it really wasn’t up for it. It was funny and adorable to watch Grant act like he’d not lived in his body his entire life. In a way it was cool, it meant his personality was larger than life so he didn’t see himself as weak - and Bucky knew he was anything but.

“Like what - surveillance?” Grant made it sound like a dirty word.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, surveillance, but we're going to find out who ordered the attack, why and take them down. Well, help take them down. I'll put my feelers out, see if we can get any intel on what needs doing. The Avengers seem to be doing the heavy lifting, but whatever is left of SHIELD can always use more brains.”

Grant looked thoughtful at his suggestion. “What _are_ the Avengers doing, where are they? I feel so out of the loop.”

Tilting the screen, Bucky showed him the latest footage, it uploaded only two hours before and he'd not watched it yet. He filed away the fact Grant seemed to usually be in the know on the Avengers whereabouts. Maybe he worked with Coulson.

As the video started he saw Tony and Natasha fighting what appeared to be a tactical team of…

“Robots…” Bucky exhaled, trying to keep the contempt from his voice, he fucking hated robots. He saw Grant nod in agreement next to him.

“Yeah, bots have become a real issue in the last few years.”

Bucky raised a brow but didn’t comment, if he remarked on it, he was certain Grant would clam up again and he didn't want that. He only seemed to glean pertinent information when Grant's guard was down. But he was right, robots were becoming a huge inconvenience, but he couldn't outright say it, since he wasn't admitting to being an active agent with SHIELD, not yet anyway.

“Right, so I see Tony and Nat there, and Falcon flew past the screen a minute ago. Okay, that arrow there means Hawkeye’s on the case. But there’s no -”

“- Winter Soldier.” 

“- Captain America.”

They spoke at the same time and Bucky had a hard time not tensing, noticing Grant had too. He needed to cover up his reaction. Not that Grant would have any clue he was the Winter Soldier, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He wondered why Grant said the Soldiers name rather than Captain Americas, who was the team leader - it was curious.

“Maybe they are off on a secret mission together.” He supplied offhand. Trying not to think about what being on a two man operation would be like with just him and The Cap, it still appealed, but planning his next move with Grant was just as appealing.

Grant bit his bottom lip, distracting Bucky a moment, watching avidly as teeth marred the pink softness. “Maybe… I guess.” He was quiet for a few seconds before abruptly getting up off the couch and stretching, “coffee, then work out a game plan?”

Bucky nodded, unable to speak, because when Grant stood up and stretched - a sliver of stomach became exposed as the too big basketball shorts fell down slightly. But it wasn’t the skin which made Bucky’s throat dry up, it was the wispy blonde hair on Grant’s stomach that disappeared lower and lower until Bucky could almost see everything outlined below in painstakingly clear detail through the shiny fabric.

Fucking hell. It took longer than it should have for Bucky to work out why he couldn't drag his eyes away from the magnificent view before him - Grant wasn't wearing any underwear.

Grant moved minutely as Bucky stared and everything within arm's reach stirred, almost independently to the rest of his body. He gulped, throat dry and a lance of desire harpooned him in the gut.

Bucky Barnes was suddenly the thirstiest man in the world and he couldn't do a damn thing to slake it.

The next evening Bucky and Grant were ready to leave the apartment for the first time together. Bucky had received an encrypted message about a SHIELD operative who'd been outed as Hydra, and they were going to track him and confirm if that was the case and see what other intel they could find. He wondered if the coded email was from Fury. Grant was livid when Bucky read out the alleged traitors name. Brock Rumlow didn’t mean anything to Bucky, but clearly Grant knew him, and was pissed beyond belief. He was ready to take him out immediately or die trying, and Bucky had to hide his grin at Grant's flair for the dramatic.

It soon became apparent that Bucky didn’t have any tactical gear which would fit Grant, so instead he was wearing a pair of Bucky’s old dark skinny jeans rolled up, the converse shoes he’d arrived in (which were at least a size or two too big, but Grant shrugged and put some newspaper in the soles before tightening the laces up) and a black, _Tool_ band tee. Paired with his foppish blonde hair and a look of determination to do something useful, Bucky’s breath was stolen from his chest. Grant looked comfortable, good, like he was about to go on a date. Swallowing tightly, Bucky desperately wanted that to be the case - with him. Not today though. 

He, himself was dressed in dark fatigues, _not_ his Winter Soldier gear, flesh skin over his hand to hide it from Grant’s sharp gaze and armed to the teeth. Grant raised a brow when Bucky started to put knives into the specialist sheaths he’d had sewn into his pants, but he had no idea to the extent his knife fetish went. Grant knew of only seven of the thirty on him in various sizes. He wasn’t taking his sniper rifle on this one, it wasn’t that type of operation, plus he didn’t need Grant to know what he really did for a living, or his specialist stream as it were.

As they left, Bucky handed Grant a helmet from the hook near the front door, he took it with a genuine grin.

“You have a bike?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated in fond exasperation, “what kind of bike?”

“Iron 833.”

The whistle gratifying, “good choice, I have a Street 750.”

“A fellow Harley man?”

“Always, been riding them my entire life, used to ride a Liberator back in the day.”

Bucky gave him a quick surprised look, the WLA model was a relic, a war machine and he had no idea where Grant would have found one in working condition. Maybe he was a collector.

The parking garage quiet when the arrived and Bucky suddenly wished he’d bought a car instead of the Harley, not even thinking that having Grant jump on behind him, skinny hands clasped over his stomach wouldn’t affect him in some way. After a few seconds of adjusting their weights as Grant couldn’t seem to find a spot suitable for his size, they made their way across Brooklyn easily. The Avengers tower loomed to their left in the falling darkness and he felt Grant’s head swivel that way as his hands tightened slightly across his gut. Bucky couldn’t help but notice how natural Grant felt pressed up against his back, arms encircling his waist.

He motioned with his head that he was about to take an off-ramp towards Hells’ Kitchen. Grant squeezed him back to let him know he understood and Bucky allowed the thrill in his gut to envelope him for a second. He’d gotten attached way too easily.

They parked a few blocks away from the warehouse where Brock reportedly was holed up, and made the rest of the journey on foot. Bucky glanced at his bike before leaving, hoping it would be fine behind the dumpster he’d chosen. 

They didn’t speak much on the way, Bucky trusting Grant when he’d said he’d been on reconnaissance missions before, making him wonder if he was an undercover operative of some type. He would be unassuming enough, and there was a strength of character about him, he was also stubborn enough to annoy information out of people. 

Bucky usually didn’t place trust easily, but with Grant he’d simply given it. A fact he had to reflect on later. Thinking with his cock could quite likely get him killed. But he was certain it was more than just attraction as to why - he wasn't sure what it was about Grant that instilled it so verdantly in him. But here they were.

When they arrived at the warehouse they readied themselves to split up, Bucky quirking his head to silently ask if Grant was sure. The eye roll and huff in return clearly saying that he was fine and annoyed at Bucky checking. He was such an impudent shit and it pushed Bucky’s buttons something fierce. Grasping the blondes arm tightly, he pulled him in close, wide-eyed and breathing heavily Grant simply looked up into Bucky’s eyes, gaze not wavering. But the hint of something more lurked in the depths, something Bucky couldn’t pinpoint.

“Be careful,” he hissed, “Natasha will fucking shoot me if something happens to you, and then double tap when she finds out I _willingly_ took you out to hunt down information on Brock.”

Grant’s chest continued to heave and Bucky realised how close he’d yanked him forward so he could whisper without being overheard. Blue eyes barely visible in the dusk flitted across Bucky’s face and he inhaled sharply when they landed on his lips. Was Grant...

A loud banging from within the warehouse shook them from the moment and Bucky let go abruptly, Grant quickly wiped his palms on his thighs nervously, taking a deep breath and motioned he was going around the back.

Watching him go, and wondering on the look Grant had given him, Bucky finally galvanized himself into action. He wasn’t here to fuck spiders, he had intel to gather and hopefully find something useful to help Natasha and the others. If she ever damn well answered his texts that was.

Bucky pulled himself up the side of the warehouse, using his left arm to help grip and steady as he deftly made his way to the row of windows near the roof. He had no way of knowing if this building had suspended walkways he could utilise, but he was living in a land of hope. A few minutes later he was slipping through a jimmied window, thankful when he landed softly on a grated pathway. The large one roomed warehouse had a seperate office up in one corner, a sharp row of metal steps leading from the ground up a floor where he could see the lights on. A large dark haired man was inside, talking to a gentleman who looked to be in his early sixties. The older man wore a well-fitted grey three piece suit, looking very out of place at the docks, clearly unaffected as the dark haired man gestured to him wildly. The young man looked intense and very pissed. Rumlow, Bucky assumed.

Downstairs, around the vast open space, a handful of men in tactical gear were spread out. They weren’t on high alert, some were playing cards, others snoozing on fold out chairs or playing on their phones. But it was the small figure darting through the shadows which had Bucky sucking in an angry breath.

That little fucking shit, he was supposed to stay put, watching for cars and taking down information in a notebook, not damn well infiltrating the warehouse and… _the fuck he was -_ climbing the stairs to the office.

Bucky immediately got up from his gunless (and wasn't he now regretting that) sniper position and stealthily made his way closer to the office, lamenting the lack of comms. He was going to kick Grant’s ass.

He saw the lithe body slip up the stairs, good ear pressed against the door. Sure he could be getting great intel, but at what damn cost?

Just as Bucky came to a crossroads on the walkway where a long thin ladder hit the floor, Bucky caught Grant’s eye and mimicked cutting a line over his throat. Grant merely smirked cockily in return and Bucky was equal parts furious and turned on. The whole situation was a disaster in the making.

Suddenly Brock turned on his heel, yelling at the suited man and made for the door. Bucky made a panicked motion and Grant moved to the side of the stairs where the sheer drop was and easily slid _over_ the edge so that his fingers gripped the metal, hanging almost a floor above the hard cement below. _That fucking idiot._

Brock stomped down the stairs, the older man following soon after and Bucky started to inch closer, seeing the way Grant’s arms began to tremble from holding his own body weight. _Shit_ , he was too far away to help.

A yell from the warehouse floor distracted him for a second as Brock barked orders at the men to stay put for an hour while he and Pierce (the older man?) finished up some business. They then walked out.

Heart in his throat, Bucky's gaze fell back to the office and he watched as Grant started to sway side to side, only _just_ managing to throw his foot up on a lower stair to use as leverage to pull himself up.

It was working until Grant somehow kicked a small bit of debris off the stairs. Something so small shouldn’t have made such a loud noise. Bucky leapt into action and slid down the steel ladder fireman style, as the men on the ground jumped up and headed towards where Grant was struggling to get his feet up.

Yelling like a viking heading into battle, Bucky managed to distract the majority of people as he ran forward, sliding in on his right thigh, kicking the feet out from beneath two people before jumping up and punching one in the throat the other in the head. They stayed down but Bucky had already moved on, eyes on Grant and the two men who were running towards him as he finally pulled himself up onto the stairs.

He ducked and weaved, throwing knives to injure, not kill, all while punching and spinning under kicks whilst utilising his body weight and mowing people down. He had to get to Grant. He had to watch his six.

He lifted his gaze to see Grant raising his fists, ready to punch. He had good form but both men had at least 100 pounds on him. 

Grant’s first punch connected and the man seemed surprised and stumbled, but then he managed to grapple forward. Bucky, filled with adrenaline, took the stairs three at a time and barrelled down one of the men, smashing a fist into his kidneys, throwing him to the side to see Grant had already taken out the other one. He was, quite frankly, very impressed.

“I had them on the ropes,” Grant exclaimed, jaw red from a landed hit and obviously annoyed at Bucky’s intervention.

“I know pal, but we have to go. Now.” He grabbed Grant and flew down the stairs only to be shaken off derisively. Some of the men Bucky had taken down were now getting up groggily, watching and following them as they sprinted across the warehouse, slamming through the door and taking off towards the bike. Bucky could hear Grant gasping for breath, but when he tried to slow down, he was yelled at to keep going. So he did.

As he jumped on the bike starting it, he saw Grant use the inhaler quickly before jumping behind him and squeezing his thighs around Bucky, then they were off, weaving through the traffic, shaking any potential tails. He had no idea how well they were followed from the warehouse, if at all.

Bucky rode for almost two hours, back tracking, using small alleys to deceive, just in case. His arms were lead weights and he could feel Grant slumping behind him and knew he had to get them home soon. 

Within half an hour, Bucky pulled up in the parking garage and only mourned the loss of Grant’s heat for a second, he was too tired. The elevator ride up was quiet and Bucky noticed Grant leaning into him, he savoured the extra moment of touch for what it was.

When they got inside Bucky flicked the light on, taking Grant’s helmet from him. Placing both of them on the rack, he made his way to the lounge where Grant was already boneless on the lounge.

He sat heavily on the single seater, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly, sensing Grant’s eyes on him. Bucky was just glad to be back in the relative safety of his apartment.

“We are going to have a serious chat about your disobedience of orders.” Bucky stated flatly.

Sighing when Grant didn't respond, he flipped his head forward, ruffling his hair before sitting up straight to pull it back in a bun, then raised a brow at the open mouthed stare he was receiving from Grant, "what?"

Blue eyes searched his face a moment before a complete look of disbelief crossed over Grant’s features, Bucky was lost at what was happening.

"Oh holy fuck, I had a feeling - but didn’t actually think… but the hair flip… and - _shit_ , you really are -"

Suddenly the windows in the lounge burst inwards, glass shards flying everywhere as three people in full tactical gear attached to guiding ropes smashed in, and Bucky forgot all about half formed words as he jumped up, throwing himself towards Grant. 

How the fuck was he going to get them out of this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love so far!
> 
> Things are about to get interesting... 
> 
> And we got a little action this chapter (okay maybe not the action you were hoping for...) but yay!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - I guess this is where I say:
> 
> *I am not a secret spy operative, nor am I a supersoldier (surprise!) so just go with some of the more unbelievable aspects of the story! ;)

Bucky landed on Grant, the small ‘oof’ sound underneath him would have been cute in any other situation, one where Hydra hadn’t just smashed through his fifth floor windows with the intent to harm. Well he assumed they were there to harm, it was highly unlikely that they'd arrived to sell him a subscription to Time Life magazine.

“Get behind the couch. Now!”

“I can help,” Grant hissed as Bucky pushed off the floor so that the couch flipped onto its back, both of them riding it over until it hit the ground, shielding them for a second.

“I know you can, just listen.”

Grant’s mouth snapped shut,  _ huh _ \- it worked.

“I’m going to disarm them, I need you to head for the hall and run. Take out anyone between you and the door, there could be more of them. I’ll be right behind you.”

Bucky didn’t wait for an answer, instead he popped up from behind the fallen piece of furniture, catching sight of the dust bunnies which had been hiding underneath it (and a sock?) Bucky really needed to up his spring cleaning game.

As he hurdled over, he slipped knives from his vest, flinging six in quick succession. He wasn’t aiming to kill, maybe he should be, but he always tried to incapacitate first. Satisfaction as his knives hit thighs and shoulders filled him, he really had superb aim. Bucky ran for the only one who wasn’t yelling in pain and began to attack in earnest.

He had to trust that Grant listened and was headed towards the hall, but when he swung his fist out to slam it into the person’s jaw, a glass saucepan lid came flying from behind him, smacking directly into another one of their attackers. They jerked back, falling to the floor from the impact. Bucky laughed with adrenaline as another lid flew past, towards the last person who also hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. His guy didn’t stand a chance, Bucky knocking him flat with one punch.

Spinning around with a bright grin, he met Grant’s responding smile and instead of getting angry that he’d not listened, he laughed loudly again. Grant’s smile grew impossibly wider at that.

“Saucepan lids! You know what, I’m not even mad you ignored me. That was fucking brilliant. The way you throw, did you do discus in college or something?”

Grant’s face reddened at the compliment. “Something like that.”

Before Bucky could respond, the front door burst off its hinges and people flowed in. He had a second to lament the destruction and loss of his apartment, knowing he'd have to sell and that his insurance premiums were now going to go through the roof. Which was  _ clearly  _ not in his top three priorities of that moment. Probably getting them both out alive was number one, or saving his Lego collection - it was a tough call.

Glancing around the room, he desperately tried to get his brain into gear for a solution and noticed Grant raising a hand as if to grab something from over his shoulder, but then he looked to Bucky a second later, seeing what was mirrored in his own eyes. There were too many Hydra goons to take down. They were trapped.

He watched helplessly for a second while Grant frantically looked around the area.

“Do you trust me?” Grant asked; Bucky nodded back immediately. “Great, follow my lead.”

Grant ran to the broken window, jumping over a prone body, and grasped a rope that Hydra had rappelled down with. Bucky gave him the thumbs up, knowing exactly what he was about to do and  _ fuck _ , he hoped that it worked and Hydra hadn’t only factored in the length needed to drop from the roof. If there wasn't enough rope to get them to the ground - they were royally screwed, and also flat - and probably dead. He didn’t want to die, not yet. He had a wily blonde to seduce. Hopefully.

There was no time for safety, no checking pulleys and putting on harnesses - one moment they were standing in a shattered window, cold wind whipping around them, the next they'd flung themselves out into the dark. Bucky saw that Grant had pulled the long sleeved t-shirt over his hands to save his skin, then wound his feet around the cord so he could slide down quickly. It was at that moment Bucky realised he could have used his metal arm to slide down in seconds flat, yes, it would have outed him as the Winter Soldier, but getting Grant to safety was paramount, not only because Natasha willed it, but because Bucky did too. It was too late for that course of action though, as they’d already started the descent and Grant was too far away from his rope to take over.

No one cut their escape route off from the top, so clearly they were wanted alive, which brought up more questions on who Grant was, but he didn’t have time to linger as they hit the concrete moments later. Looking up, Bucky saw people jumping onto the ropes to follow, and he knew they had limited time to escape. Hydra were obviously very cocky as there was no one on the ground to meet them. It was sloppy planning on their behalf.

Neither of them waited, they took off in the same direction running for all they were worth. Bucky had no idea what time it was, but it was very late, or extremely early in the morning, as the streets were almost deserted and darkness blanketed the borough. He slid to a stop next to a car, one which was old enough not to have electronic security features like immobilisers or alarms. Grant kept running until he realised Bucky had stopped, then came screaming back. By that stage Bucky had already broken into the car and it was well on it’s way to being hotwired. He hated to do this to someone’s pride and joy (it was an imported J53 Jeep in mint condition, old but brilliant) but he would dump it carefully, fingers crossed it would  _ still _ be in mint condition by then. He’d been in enough high speed chases along highways where cars were pure commodities to destroy for a showy escape.

A minute later the Jeep was on the road, Bucky checking the rearview mirror more often than watching for traffic before him. So far he’d not seen anyone following, although that’s what he’d thought at the warehouse and look what happened there.

Two hours into their drive Bucky pulled over and hotwired another car, reluctantly dumping the Jeep and kept going. He now had a solid plan to buy a Jeep, they were  _ so _ much fun. Grant fell into a fitful sleep almost immediately, and Bucky couldn’t help but look over frequently to watch the way his long lashes flickered as he dreamt. Grant’s face relaxed in sleep from the soft light of the dash gave no hint to the hothead who lived in his skin. Bucky liked both versions of him. A little too much.

Bucky’s safe house was up near the Adirondack Mountains close to Lake Placid, but far enough out of the town that it was completely secluded. They had another good four hours until arrival, so Bucky let Grant sleep. He’d thought about stealing a third car, but erred on the side of caution in case Hydra were tracking police bandwidths and noticed a spate of car thefts leading out of New York. He wished he’d stolen the Jeep second, Ford station wagons were  _ not _ as fun. At least the wood panelling would camouflage well in the forest. It was all about the silver linings.

Suddenly a deep voice spoke from beside him, shaking him from his car fueled lamenting. Grant was awake. 

“Hey, I’ve been wondering, how do you think Hydra found us at your apartment?”

Bucky sighed, “I don’t know, I thought I would have lost any tails, but maybe they had a tracker on my bike. I mean, someone from Hydra could have found it behind the dumpster and placed one on, just in case their hunch turned out right - it’s something I’d have done.”

“I suppose.” Grant responded, then remained silent for a bit. “How are you going? Tired? Need me to take over driving for a bit?” Grant stretched as he asked, his back popping and Bucky smiled when he grimaced at the sound.

“Nah, I’m good, plus I know where we are headed. I have a cabin up near Lake Placid.”

Grant nodded and looked ahead at the road, but Bucky saw him glancing his way, more often than usual. Cocking his head, he looked askance at him, “What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Oh, err, sorry. You just…” Grant trailed off.

“Just…”

“Nevermind.”

“Okay then," he paused, but Grant didn't say any more. He felt like Grant was keeping something from him (more than normal) and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it could be. They had spent the last few hours running on adrenaline and Bucky knew he was wired. Ready to act, do something. He was glad to drive, it gave him a purpose in the moment. 

"Hey, you’re not worried about escaping the city with me, are you?”

Grant looked at him in surprise, like he’d never even considered it. “No, not at all, to be honest I feel safer with you than with almost everyone else I know at the moment. I’m not worried.”

Bucky smiled and let the words wash over him, pleased that he elicited such a reaction. He liked that Grant felt safe with him. More than liked.

“Even if you are some kind of hot wiring criminal genius straight out of Grand Theft Auto. I had no idea watching someone steal cars would be such a turn on,” he finished.

Bucky choked on his tongue and looked over at Grant, who was suspiciously staring out the side window, face averted. What was that? Flirting? Please let it be flirting.

Grant went on to talk about a recipe he’d seen on Food Network earlier that week he wanted to try, and Bucky attempted to tamper the disappointment of not continuing the potential flirty vein of thought. But honestly, they were on the run, he couldn’t stop the car for a quickie, even if Grant asked (which he hadn’t and probably wouldn’t). Actually, hell yes he could, especially if asked, but Grant deserved more than a fuck in the back of a station wagon. But the thought of it was hot.

They drove for a while chatting as the car ate up the miles, Bucky was almost certain they hadn’t been followed. But he was still vigilant.

“Shit,” Bucky said and looked over at Grant who frowned back, “what did you hear at the warehouse? I’d completely forgotten about it with the whole fleeing thing.”

Grant looked stunned, “you’re right. Christ, it’s not good.” His face fell into something angry, yet appalled and Bucky couldn’t fathom what he’d heard to make him look like that.

Noticing Grant had balled his hands into fists, Bucky waited, not pushing, knowing Grant would start when he had his thoughts in order.

“Pierce, that was the older man you saw, he was one of the directors at SHIELD. High level, almost as high up as you could go. Well he apparently has a secret facility which is kitted out ready to create super soldiers. One that no one knew about. One where he was going to create soldiers to do 'off-book' operations - with no accountability."

Bucky raised both brows, stunned. “Fuck, so they’re trying to make soldiers just like Captain America but have them do what? Unsanctioned operations? How the hell were they going to accomplish that, I heard all of the serum research was destroyed before the war?" Bucky asked, voice belying his concern.

Grant nodded stiffly in response, “apparently they have blood samples from Captain America and are trying to reverse engineer it…”

He trailed off and Bucky looked over in concern because Grant now had a fist to his mouth, and his body was shaking. Bucky couldn’t tell if he was upset or furious, it seemed a little of both. Whatever he’d overheard had cut him to the quick. 

“I know for a  _ fact _ that Captain America had no idea they had this sample. He’d be furious, upset and would feel betrayed, utterly betrayed that SHIELD had kept this from him. He might even go rogue in retaliation.”

Instinctually, Bucky leaned over, placing a hand on Grant’s knee, knowing somehow that he needed a touchstone to keep him in his mind, in the now. He was concerned how personally Grant was taking this, The Cap probably didn’t realise how many people cared about what happened to him. Bucky removed his hand once Grant looked down at it, surprised to see it there. 

He burned to know what Grant was to SHIELD and how he seemed to know so much about everyone, and why Bucky had never seen or heard of him. He knew he only did the odd operation with SHIELD, but enough that he knew quite a few of the employees. Surely he would have noticed Grant immediately, there was no way his eyes wouldn’t have been drawn to him.

There was still no response from Grant so he said what was on his mind, “I don’t know about that. Cap seems like he’d be the type of person who would listen to the facts, then make a decision based on what was laid out in front of him. He wouldn’t turn his back on the entirety of SHIELD until he knew without a doubt they were all bad. There are good people left there, I’m certain of it.”

Grant swung his gaze over to him and Bucky found it hard to concentrate on the road, Grant looked somewhere between gratified at his answer but also so lost, so upset and all Bucky wanted to do was pull over and envelope him in his arms and hold him. But he didn’t. 

“Do you know The Cap then? Personally?” Grant asked, the burning curiosity in his voice odd.

“Oh, no, not really - I mean I’ve seen him around - how can you not, he’s huge, um, I mean, he’s impressively..." Scrambling for something to say other than blurting out he'd clearly had a huge crush on him, Bucky faltered, "impressive… yeah, you get the picture. Plus you’d know that too since I get the feeling you’re friendly with him? He has his crew, and seems loyal to a tee to SHIELD, a little aloof with outsiders, but a good man.”

“Right…yeah, he’s definitely... impressive.” Grant didn’t seem all that happy with his response and hugged his arms around himself like he was cold. Bucky surreptitiously adjusted the temperature.

"So, Brock then, what did he have to say?"

Grant seemed to shake himself from his thoughts and smiled wryly. “Well Brock was pissed because he was slated as the next super soldier, but Pierce said he was too unpredictable and would need to prove his loyalty before being chosen.”

“Well I guess that makes sense. From what I’ve seen and to be fair, that’s not much - Brock seems like a dick with authority issues.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong. But I’ve worked with both Rumlow and Pierce in the past and I never saw this happening. I'm such an idiot.”

Bucky thought Grant was being a little hard on himself considering the situation, “you’re not an idiot, look, even the Avengers didn’t know. You’ve said yourself that The Cap didn’t and Natasha had no clue either. So don’t beat yourself up over something you couldn’t foresee,” Grant spared a grateful look at him, and he decided to push his luck. “So in what capacity did you work with them?”

“It’s classified.”

“ _ Really?” _

Grant didn’t respond, it annoyed Bucky to no end, especially after all they’d been through together.

“You  _ do _ know I can be trusted, right?”

“I know,” Grant responded, voice thick with an emotion Bucky couldn't quite place, "I really do… I just. It’s not you, it’s me...  _ Fuck _ ."

Clearly there was something on Grant's mind, he seemed to be warring within himself, fists curled even tighter in his lap, jaw tight.

Bucky decided to bite the bullet and say something. Something real. Suddenly he needed Grant to know his truth, even if he couldn’t get it in return. He wanted at least one thing to not be a lie or a misplaced fact between them, and he could start by telling him who he was. 

Coughing lightly to get Grant's attention, he went ahead, pulse beating erratically. "You can call me Bucky if you want, it's what all my friends do."

Grant spun towards him, eyes impossibly huge and blue on his pale face, Bucky swallowed hard, not expecting such an awed, yet conflicting look in return. Grant's mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out and Bucky wondered if he should have stayed quiet. It was just a name, not even a good one. 

Grant looked down at his fist and punched his thigh. “Shit.” 

“What is it?” Bucky asked, slowing the car and unconsciously looking for trouble. All he saw was a red Jeep coming from the other direction, and the desire to buy one intensified, there was no question, he was getting one. Bucky did not become obsessed with things, not at all.

A heavy sigh loosened from Grant's chest and he felt his own tightening in response. “I can't... I have to... I figured out something about you.”

Bucky waited, heart racing at Grant's stuttered sentence.  _ Fuck _ , did Grant know about his inappropriate crush? Of course he did, it was so damn obvious. He was going to tell Bucky thanks, but no thanks.

But Grant didn’t  _ say _ anything, he just leant over Bucky’s body and grabbed his left hand, tugging at the synthetic skin, which due to the ropeburn and basically everything which had happened in the last day, practically fell apart.  _ Oh fuck. _

“You’re the Winter Soldier, right?” Grant sat back in his seat watching Bucky carefully, wary in a way that indicated he was nervous, unsure about how he’d react. And that was the kicker right there, seeing that look on Grant's face.

Pure instinct took over and Bucky slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the side of the road, barely registering that thankfully there were hardly any other people driving in his lane. Grant  _ knew _ , he’d figured it out somehow. How the hell had he done that? Bucky was sure he'd hidden his identity perfectly, had years upon years to  _ perfect _ it. 

Grant placed a hand on Bucky’s right forearm lightly, but he couldn’t. Shaking him off, Bucky jumped out the car, needing air.

He was reacting like a lunatic with no self control, feeling the tendrils of a spiral into his own mind grasp him. Of all the things Grant could have said, this hit him for six. He wasn't prepared, not at all.

Natasha was the only one in existence who knew both sides of him and although he was about to tell Grant a small snippet of his life, he didn’t need him knowing his past. The Winter Soldier (and Bucky's) history was bloody and not something Grant needed or should know about. Of course Bucky wasn’t purely the Soldier, or the sniper he'd once been, he was so much more. But how could he explain that? Especially to someone who clearly had ties with SHIELD and could potentially look up everything he was, everything he  _ had _ been.  _ Shit, fuck, shit. _

This was all wrong. This wasn't how someone found out about his secret life. This wasn't how he intended to tell  _ Grant _ about his secret life. Because Bucky  _ had _ intended to tell him, maybe not today or tomorrow, but he had plans. Moronic and not well thought out plans, perhaps, but he felt a connection to Grant, something real and he wanted to explore it, wanted  _ them  _ to, if Grant wanted him. But he didn't even get a chance to ask.

He paced out in front of the car, needing extra distance, space to think - wondering if he could jump the railing and run into the forest, but it looked cold and he had no idea if bears were out at the moment. Because bears were really his biggest issue right now.

What he didn’t expect was a small figure to follow him then reach out, grasping his arms, looking up beseechingly, making sure Bucky’s wild eyes were caught in stable blue ones.

“James… Bucky, it’s okay,” at Bucky’s scoff Grant’s eyes softened, but his grip tightened on his arms, the pain bringing Bucky back a little. “No, really, look - I know for a fact the Avengers speak highly of you. They respect you, you’re one of the good guys. What you do as the Winter Soldier, what you  _ think _ you've done, is not who you are in here," Grant tapped his chest, just above his heart and Bucky took a strangled breath in, hardly daring to believe the earnestness coming from Grant.

"You  _ always _ watch their backs, you care, and I  _ know _ that Captain America... well, I know he relies on you, and that he needs you. A lot. And... so do I.”

Bucky had no words, not yet, his throat was too tight, but he watched Grant, knowing he was acting erratic but unable to contain it, certain Grant would be able to feel his heart thumping in his chest, seeing the chaotic thoughts behind his eyes. All the adrenaline flowing through his body had nowhere to go, and he was shaking from it. He also knew from experience he'd crash soon and need a solid ten hours of sleep. He was on a knife's edge, worried and out of control.

"How did you figure-"

"-it doesn't matter."

“Fuck, Grant… this… you, look you can't tell anyone.” he managed through tight teeth.

“I promise you, I won’t. You have my word.”

He felt the panic rising again, shaking his head a little, he gasped in another breath, he-

Warm lips landed on his, pressing tightly as two cold thin hands cupped his cheeks. Grant was kissing him, leaning up on his tiptoes to reach, and it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t a prelude to more, it was grounding, it was comforting and it was fucking beautiful.

Bucky took a few seconds to come back into his skin, then his arms were wrapping tightly around Grant’s body, pulling him in closer. Grant scrambled a little to regain his feet, but did not lose his place, his lips remained against Bucky’s.

A soft gasp from Grant’s throat finally had Bucky’s brain firing and as much as he didn’t want to, he let go, allowing Grant his space, to move back if he wanted. Instead Grant fell forward, mouth opening slightly and it was the teasing of tongue which made Bucky growl possessively and drag him back in. Grant opened his mouth greedily and who was Bucky to deny this perfect moment? He swept aside all the doubt, all the questions and kissed back hungrily.

The kiss had the intended effect, Bucky’s panic had turned into something animalistic, different, a want so deep in his bones that it was there to stay. A want greater than the terror of discovery, but did Grant want the same, or was he only kissing Bucky to calm him down?

As soon as doubt entered his mind he leant away, but not before leaving a hard chaste kiss to Grant’s wonderfully pink swollen mouth, just in case it was his last. He took a deep breath and looked down to where Grant had rested his trembling hands against Bucky's chest, then back to the idling car, headlights blurring in the soft cool mist. The thought of the cold brought him back completely, he had to get Grant out of the weather, back to where it was warm. He could work this all out later. Alone, or with Grant, he hoped the latter.

“Let’s get you back in the car, warm you up.”

Grant nodded, looking kiss drunk and gorgeous in the early dawn and tugged Bucky towards the car, palm slipping down so they walked back holding hands. It was as surreal as it was grounding. When they were back inside, doors shut, Bucky turned to Grant slowly. 

“Uh, thanks for… you know - bringing me back.”

Grant’s eyes softened and his eyes flicked to Bucky’s lips again and he felt heat infuse in his stomach, turning everything on its end. But then Grant’s eyes flicked forward, no longer looking at him and Bucky wondered if his want, his desire, was painted too clearly over his face. That it might have made Grant uncomfortable. He couldn’t see what was written over Grant’s face as he was now blowing warm breath onto his fingers and Bucky started the car to get the heater going again.

“So, we need to get to the safehouse soon, else it will be too light and I don’t want people seeing us arrive if I can help it. You still with me?”

“Yep, I’m all in.” Grant replied without hesitation. “Until the end.”

Bucky pulled back out onto the road, and tried desperately not to hope those words were meant exactly how they sounded.

They arrived at the cabin an hour later, the road clear of traffic when Bucky turned off onto the long dirt driveway that had started to overgrow. He’d neglected the upkeep of the surrounding forest on purpose, but the cabin itself was always ready for him. It was the nature of his job. He never knew when he’d have to go off-grid, so it was well stocked and could comfortably keep him for weeks.

Bucky climbed out of the car and stretched, Grant followed his lead looking around in interest.

“It’s nice,” he said, gazing at the view, which was all forest heading down an incline.

Bucky smiled, he really loved his cabin in the woods and his favourite pastime was sitting on the wraparound porch, rugged up, watching the fog lift over the trees in the morning with coffee. It was pretty magical.

“Thanks, it’s not much as you’ll see, but it suits my needs.”

Grant nodded and trailed after him as he ascended the steps to find his spare key to let them in.

“Many large crocodiles around here?”

Bucky gave Grant a long suffering look as the door swung open, “you watch too many movies.”

“Come on, Clint told me it’s a classic.”

“Lake Placid gets such a bum wrap cause of that movie, it is  _ not _ a classic. Whoever this Clint person is, well he’s a moron. No offense.”

“No, he is,” Grant replied, a curl of a smile on his face.

Pushing inside, Bucky looked around, pleased to see nothing had been disturbed.

There was only one room, with a separate bathroom off to the side. It was a large space though, a fireplace situated in one corner with a few big soft chairs in front of it, a queen bed tucked away in another corner and in the kitchen area, he’d put a table and four chairs. He headed for the utility cupboard while Grant poked his nose into the bathroom, coming out looking mildly impressed. Bucky was extremely glad he’d sprung for a decent generator to allow hot running water. It was the little luxuries in life.

He pulled out an emergency burner phone he’d never used and a SIM and threw it to Grant.

“Call Nat, Fury, whoever you trust and warn them what’s happened to us and tell them about Pierce and Brock.”

“Perfect, thanks.” Grant set himself up at the table to sort out the phone while Bucky checked his food stocks in the pantry. They had plenty of food between the cupboard and his freezer to get them through a couple of days without having to go into town. He wanted to avoid people at all costs.

Then he was at a loss, he glanced at the bed and ‘nope’ he wasn’t thinking about it. Nor the way Grant’s hair hung adorably over his eyes as he sorted out the phone, huffing when he tucked it behind his ear then it immediately falling back into his eyes. Jesus, he was turning into the sappiest sap.

Maybe he needed a little space, just to recalibrate from the shock of Grant outing him, then the kiss. The kiss Bucky was trying not to think too hard on, else he might stalk towards Grant again to make sure that his lips really  _ were _ that soft.

Instead of ruminating on things, he went outside to check the perimeter and once happy that no one really had been through, he grabbed some wood, and stacked up the fire, lighting it to ward off the evening chill which was coming. 

At some point he heard a soft voice from the porch and realised that Grant was on the phone. Every fibre in his being wanted to eavesdrop, overhear conversation that would help him piece together something,  _ anything _ about Grant. But he didn’t, either Grant was going to trust him enough or he wasn’t.

He put a pot of coffee on and waited for Grant to come back, to no avail. So Bucky poured two mugs and went to find him.

Grant was sitting on the porch, taking up one half of the sofa that overlooked the forest, the glimmer of water in the distance. He looked up surprised at the interruption, as if Bucky was the last person he expected to walk around the corner. But he accepted the coffee with a grateful moan and Bucky’s mind was back in the gutter. What the hell was it with this man? Bucky had turned into an absolute ball of not so repressed sexual tension.

“How’d the call go?”

Grant suddenly rubbed his stomach, grimacing and before Bucky could ask further, waved him off. “I’m fine. It, uh, it went as well as expected. They’ll follow some leads, let us know the next move, but told us to stay put like good little boys.”

Bucky frowning at Grant’s clear stomach pain, and couldn’t help but ask, “Natasha wants to kick your ass doesn’t she?”

“Not just mine,” he replied gleefully.

“Great.” Bucky deadpanned, an angry Nat was not fun.

There was nothing left for it but to drink his coffee. It was strange to think Grant now knew he was the Winter Soldier, as earlier that morning the revelation seemed to be earth shattering, now after a little more time to muse on it, he felt freer. Grant had figured it out, and it wasn’t the end of the world. Who’d have thought?

Stretching his legs up until his feet rested on the railing, he allowed the exhaustion from stopping to finally flood his body, all the energy he’d been borrowing from his reserves disappeared. Relaxing further into the chair, he let how much he loved it here wash over him. Glancing to his side, he also really loved not being here alone.

Steam rose from Grant’s coffee, swirling in the crisp air and Bucky watched him take a sip, pink lips puckered, glistening in the light once he’d lowered the cup -  _ fuck. _ Bright blue eyes looked up and caught his and Bucky quickly averted his gaze, concerned he was too tired to mask his desire. Hearing a sharp huff from beside him, Bucky looked out over the forest instead, fingers itching to sink into Grant’s blonde hair to tug him forward onto his lap. Kiss those lips again, and keep on kissing them until they were both gasping with want. He couldn’t though. 

Heat pressed against him as Grant sunk into the chair  _ and _ into Bucky, did he not know what he was doing? Bucky was about to vibrate out of his skin from the sensation of having him so close. He was too wound up and too exhausted for his filters to be working and he knew if he didn’t escape in the next minute, he would do or say something foolish.

“I’m going to crash, it’s been - well, it’s been a day  _ and _ night really.” He stood up abruptly and ignored the small noise of protest from Grant at the cool air filtering in now he’d moved. He assumed that was why he’d protested, he wouldn’t even consider it was for any other reason, as his tired brain made connections where there were none.

Bucky was almost at the door when Grant spoke up, “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?” Bucky asked.

“For looking out for me, a basic stranger. I know it’s been hard, but yeah - I do appreciate it.”

Bucky didn’t want to admit the hardest part of the entire fiasco was keeping his hands to himself, even more so as he now had the ghost of Grant’s lips still pressed against his own. But he smiled lopsided back at Grant and noticed the way his cheeks flushed prettily.

“Anytime pal, anytime.”

He fell asleep on the couch within minutes and when he woke in the middle of the night, found a blanket from the closet draped over him. Bucky looked up at the dark roof, hearing the small snores from Grant in the bed and sighed heavily. This was going to be a test, fighting Hydra with one arm and the stamina of an eighty year old would be easier than trying to ignore how much he wanted Grant.

Luckily, apart from Grant pulling him back into his head after spiralling out of control on the side of the road, he’d shown no such interest in him. It  _ should _ in theory be a piece of cake to ignore him.

Bucky though - really did love cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What ever will they do in a cabin... alone???


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - I think I went into a little trope territory here (I mean, the whole story is a big one - but somehow, {who knows how} the cabin only had one bed...)
> 
> The err *cough, the rating is starting to be utilised too...

The next day Bucky woke stiff and sore, somehow forgetting until that moment how much he hated sleeping on the couch. He’d moved it up to the cabin for a reason, and it wasn’t for it's comfort factor when resting. Hearing his back crack as he sat up slowly, he looked around the cabin blearily. He had no idea how long he was out for, but the sun was high, so it must have been a good handful of hours, ten maybe? Bucky’s eyes found the neatly made bed, no Grant in sight. He didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing, as seeing Grant wake up, blue eyes becoming visible one blink at a time would probably end with Bucky self combusting. Let alone seeing the messy slept-in t-shirt and uncombed hair.  _ Hell _ , he was getting heart-eyes just thinking about it.

He went to the bathroom before putting coffee on, glimpsing a small blonde head in his peripheral outside near the woodpile. Bucky watched through the window for a moment, impressed at how competent Grant was with an axe, the neat pile of wood next to him a testament of how determined he was to help. He only stopped once to use the inhaler and as much as Bucky wanted to rush out and take over, he didn’t. He understood the desire of wanting to feel useful; plus the view of Grant’s lithe body sweating and being used for physical labour was something else. Grant raised the axe up and slammed it down, arms taut with holding it steady, sweat was beading lightly on his forehead and Bucky was torn between watching longer or having a shower to quickly sort out a matter which had just ‘popped’ up.

The shower won out.

Within seconds of the cool spray hitting him, he’d slicked up his hands with shower gel. The first touch to his already hard cock, electric.  _ Shit _ . It had been way too long - at least three days.  _ Ha _ , having Grant under the same roof was upping his masturbating game. He was having to get creative. But Grant outside while he was on the opposite side of the house in the shower was an easy decision to make.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he began to twist his wrist, pumping into his hand harshly. 

Bucky didn't have the luxury of time, it had to be a clinical and regimented approach to getting off.

He let the sensations run through his body unfettered, not trying to stop them, or to tease himself into an orgasm, but to just let it happen as quick as possible. Gods it felt good, his hand not particularly the one he craved, but he wasn’t complaining as his gut clenched in want.

Letting his mind wander, he replayed the way Grant’s soft lips pressed against his, then suddenly Grant was there in his mind, sweaty and bare chested climbing into the shower with him, trailing kisses over his back before bending Bucky in half and using his slick fingers to pump in and out of Bucky’s body.

“Christ,” Bucky grunted as the images in his mind's eye began to writhe together and then he heard a bang.

Bucky hesitated, gathering his splintered thoughts and stilled his movements, cock throbbing in his hand with the need for friction, he slowly stroked to give it some attention and listened like a hawk over the shower spray. It must have been his imagination, because if Grant was inside, Bucky would hear him moving around. He heard nothing.

When he ascertained the coast was clear, he allowed his hand to fly over his hardness, squeezing and pulling in the exact way he liked. Grant was now infront of him, wet, hard and pushing Bucky to his knees to shove his cock into his waiting mouth. And when his hand cradled Bucky’s cock filled-mouth and told him he was ‘ _ so _ good at sucking his dick’, Bucky twitched and lost control.

“Unf,” he bit off his growl, and came against the shower wall, hearing the cabin door shut loudly at the same time. It immediately put an edge to his post-coital glow, but, he reasoned out while his heart jackrabbited in his chest, if it  _ was _ Grant bringing wood inside to the fireplace, he would have just missed Bucky calling out, thank god. He cleaned up the wall and finished his shower methodically and quickly, now feeling content, languid and like a million bucks. There was something about coming, something relaxing which made his toes tingle. He only wished his fantasies were reality.

Grant wasn’t in the cabin when he came out and Bucky noticed that the coffee was now made and a full mug was left on the counter for him. He blanched. Oh god, Grant couldn’t have been inside while Bucky was…  _ fuck _ .

“No way,” Bucky breathed into the air, he hadn’t been that loud, not really - and although every man knew what sluicing water meant (because you couldn’t disguise the splash patterns when jerking off in a shower) he hadn’t yelled Grant’s name or something mortifying like that. Had he?

He grabbed the coffee and went outside with a small dose of trepidation. Grant was standing against the railing looking out over the forest, he didn’t turn when Bucky approached. He was trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee,” Bucky began and watched in amusement as Grant jumped, clearly catching him on his hard of hearing side.

“Oh…” he turned, eyes meeting Bucky’s for a moment before he spun around again, cheeks bright red, “no worries.”

Bucky felt his own face pinken up, and watched a long line of sweat bead from Grant’s hairline down his neck then into his shirt, he wanted to taste. Badly. Then it dawned on him, the red face could be explained away as Grant having just finished chopping a huge amount of wood. He’d probably not heard Bucky, he did have a bad ear after all.  _ Oh, thank god _ .  _ But _ , Bucky reasoned, even if he  _ had _ heard, wasn't it like bro-code not to mention it, especially when the reason he was jerking off -  _ was _ said bro? 

Knowing everything was as good as it could be, heard or not, Bucky sprawled himself out on the porch couch letting his legs fall open, allowing himself to relax.

Grant eyed the movement, eyes roving from Bucky’s foot which he’d raised up on the railing all the way slowly to his face, he startled a little when he realised Bucky was staring right back at him.

“Thanks,” Bucky said as Grant looked back out over the trees quickly.

“No. _Thank_ _you_ ,” Grant whispered, and Bucky frowned.

“What for?”

Grant jumped, clearly not meaning to be heard and Bucky had no idea what he meant, was he thanking him for saving him - again? He’d already done that the night before. Bucky pinned him with a look which he hoped told Grant he didn’t have to keep saying it.

“I mean for cutting the wood, that’s a great help.”

“Oh, right.” Grant replied, cheeks still crimson and breathing slightly laboured, he was also holding himself very taut against the railing, pressing against it. It didn’t look comfy, but each to their own - he was probably sick of sitting down and being cooped up in Bucky’s apartment for the last week or so. Should he offer a massage? Too much? Maybe just a bit.

Bucky rested his head back on the chair, shutting his eyes and hummed an old Frank Sinatra tune,  _ Witchcraft _ , quietly, he was in a good mood. Being in nature at his cabin  _ and _ getting off did wonders for his disposition.

He heard a small movement and opened one eye, singing the words softly under his breath now, to find Grant staring at him, face twisted in a complicated expression of... Bucky wasn’t quite certain. His sex addled brain was reading it as longing and desire, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. Grant hadn’t mentioned the kiss, and if he felt anything towards Bucky in that way, he would have at least hinted at it, right? Even in passing. Maybe the Winter Soldier thing really was off-putting. 

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was compromised or not, but he just couldn’t get a read on Grant, sometimes it felt like they were on the precipice of… something - but most of the time he was on the receiving end of glances and looks that he couldn’t pinpoint, and he was concerned the few times he thought he’d seen something resembling interest or lust, it was Bucky projecting his own longing. He didn’t trust his judgment - not with Grant.

He needed to get his thoughts off the crazy train of what if’s and deal with the known. His stomach decided to take that moment to make itself very known.

Bucky jumped up and headed to the door, wondering if lack of food was why Grant was acting janky. “Hungry?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” was the ragged response.

_ Okay _ , it sounded like Grant was on board for bacon and eggs. Bucky went inside and began his specialty fry up, bacon would make things clearer, it  _ was _ bacon after all.

  
  


Later that evening, Bucky was lying on the couch doing a sudoku he’d found in an old puzzle book while Grant finished up the dishes. It was too damn comfortable between them now, and as Bucky managed to get another block of numbers to add up, he found the brain teasers at least helped take his mind off Grant - for a little bit. The remainder of their day after Grant had chopped and brought in the wood was full of small looks, soft touches (which Grant had no idea was riling him up so) and jokes laden with innuendos. Or maybe that was Bucky’s mind creating a dirty mouthed Grant for his pleasure. Jesus, he needed to back off.

Grant flopped down, making Bucky growl as he had to move up, then picked up the old romance novel he’d been reading, something he'd found on Bucky's shelf; the picture on the front told the story of a woman being seduced seductively and Bucky snorted.

“What?” Grant asked, “you better not be book-shaming me - it’s yours after all.”

Bucky held up his hands in surrender, “I think it came with the cabin.”

“Sure, sure,” Grant teased, and Bucky watched with a smile as he slid his bare feet closer to Bucky’s thigh, clearly seeking warmth. Bucky being the genial man he was, who also craved any form of touch from Grant, shifted his leg closer. Grant looked up, asking permission without words and when Bucky gave no indication of it bothering him, cold toes dug in under the meat of his thigh. Fuck Grant was icy, did he not have circulation at all?

Pleased Grant was at least gaining some warmth now, Bucky pointed at the book, “so I need to know - for reasons. Is she being ravaged by a pirate, or a misunderstood movie star, no, actually it looks like a wealthy businessman who’s a single father?”

Grant grinned, “actually, it’s very James Bond, they are on the run, she's trying to prove her father wasn’t a murderer, and he's the one who accused the dad, but some other faction is also shooting at them. Oh, yeah they hate each other, it’s actually quite good.”

“Huh, sounds a bit like our situation,” When Grant didn’t answer he looked over to find him watching his face carefully. Bucky ducked his head, realising what he’d just uttered. “What? I mean without all the extra sexy stuff.”

He swore Grant said ‘pity’ but then he wriggled his toes and Bucky jumped up. “God you’re boney, want a hot chocolate?”

He grinned and nodded, Bucky went to the kitchen and Grant piped up, “I mean really, she’s just jumped from a moving train onto a car two meters away - she works in an office, there is no way she didn’t fall down the side and get run over by the Jeeps wheels.”

“Jeep?” Bucky asked, and loved the way Grant’s eyes crinkled adorably at him.

“You’re obsessed.”

“What kind of Jeep is it?”

“They don’t say.”

“What? But that’s the stuff you need to know. That book, I’m sorry to say, is shit. It doesn’t give you any idea on the make and model of the getaway car - it’s lazy writing.”

The laugh Grant let out, relaxed Bucky, christ he loved the low cadence of it, the way it warmed him up from the inside.

“Well, I’m sure if the Winter Soldier wrote a romance novel it would fly off the shelves.”

Bucky looked askance at Grant, seeing the way he joked about his other identity with no fear, no worries and for the moment, Bucky really didn’t think who he was mattered.

“Don’t challenge me, I just might write a bodice ripper one day. I really like the idea of a Duke falling in love with his stable master, their names would be, Sterling and Charles. And everyone who read it would know the make and model of the horses.”

Grant laughed, “Sure thing, the world would love a gay Barbara Cartland.”

Bucky threw a tea towel at Grant’s head.

“Hey, I meant it. It’s what the New York Times bestseller list is missing.”

“Yeah, well - watch out. T.W. Soldier will be up there in no time.”

He really did adore making Grant laugh and smile, realising he was digging a deeper and deeper hole for himself, fairly certain if he didn’t back off soon, he wasn’t going to be able to at all. He passed over the chocolate and sat down, watching as Grant cupped both hands around it before blowing the steam across the top. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat - how was that so hot?

Suddenly Grant sighed deeply, and Bucky’s eyes moved from his lips to his eyes, noting the way he was staring directly back. He flushed and saw the look in Grant’s blue eyes intense and full of resolve.

“I… look… I…” he trailed off and Bucky chuckled.

“You look, what?”

Grant threw him a glare, “I’m trying to be open here, don’t give me shit. I... just want to share something with you too," Grant sighed, his fringe blowing up from the effort, "it's probably the only thing I  _ can _ , without breaking the millions of government confidentiality protocols I’m bound by.”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, was Grant about to tell him what he did for SHIELD?

"You don't look like someone who plays by the rules." Bucky breathed, anticipation growing.

"Yeah, well… some I just can't break, no matter how much I wish I could." He looked defeated, and the pleading look he gave Bucky seemed to beg him to understand. He got what he was saying in a roundabout way, but with no context he was at a loss.

"So?" Bucky tried, he wanted to hurry Grant along as he was stalling by biting his lip, and Bucky really didn’t need that distraction either. He’d been craving Grant’s lips more and more as the hours went by and he was only just barely holding onto his wits.

“It's something you’ve shared with me already.” He took a deep breath, holding Bucky’s wrapt gaze. “My name, it’s not Grant. Well it is, but not in its entirety. Grant’s actually my middle name.”

Bucky’s mouth opened slightly as a rush of air left his lungs, thrilled to have a truth returned to him, even if it was something as small as a name. It was a start, it was the beginning of mutual trust and Bucky could have sang to the stars in happiness.

“So what do you want me to call you then?” Bucky asked with bated breath.

“Steve. You can call me Steve.”

Bucky moved restlessly, punching the cushions into submission, trying anything to get comfortable - but it was no use, the couch was shit for sleeping on. Obviously not being able to doze had nothing to do with the fact he now had Steve’s real name, and that he couldn’t keep from repeating it over and over in his mind. 

“You do know that I’m small, you could come over and share with me.” Grant, no  _ Steve _ called softly from the bed and Bucky’s mind went blank, god he wanted, wanted so bad.

“Err,” his voice refused to work.

“I mean, you don’t have to, but there’s plenty of room, offer's there.”

Bucky lay prone for what felt like three hours making a decision, yelling inside his brain to just go, not to wait, not to make it awkward by leaving it too long between the invitation and taking him up on it.

“You sure?” he finally croaked.

A small huff which sounded pouty and put out came from the other side of the cabin, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it you punk.”

“Language.” Bucky laughed, hearing a soft snort in return.

He climbed up off the couch making his way in the waning firelight to the bed, only to see the outline of Steve’s body curled up - in the middle of the bed. Jesus, if he didn’t move over, Bucky was going to be pushed right up against him.

“Uh,” he started and saw Steve turn over so he lay on his back, and hell, wasn't that the most inviting thing in existence. Coming over was a big mistake. “You might need to scoot over a bit, don’t want to squash you.”

He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn Steve stared at him long and hard for a moment, as if that’s _exactly_ what he wanted and Bucky’s brain went blank.

Sighing resignedly, Steve moved over, about three inches - it would have to be enough. 

Sliding in under the covers, Steve’s feet immediately quested for Bucky’s warmth and with a grumble, Bucky allowed it,  _ ha _ , allowed, that was a joke.

“You’re so warm,” Steve breathed, relaxing into Bucky’s side half asleep already. 

Hang on - what?

How Steve had managed to press himself up against Bucky like a bed ninja was anyone’s guess. He’d been too worried about touching Steve, he’d not even noticed when it had happened. It wasn’t at all indecent, an invitation or sexual in nature, it was just - nice. It felt, nice, like something they did on the regular, just climbing in to bed together to - press against each other. Steve was already snoring softly and Bucky was  _ not _ going to be able to roll over towards him, because if he did then he was going to wrap his arms around Steve so tight he was never letting go, or alternatively poke a hole through him with the massive boner he was somehow unable to get rid of. How was this even his life?

Sleep took a long time to come and when it did, if Steve’s arm snaking across his waist had something to do with it, then so be it. Steve was a damn good big spoon.

  
  
  


Bucky watched the fog lift from the trees, vivid images on waking up with Steve still curling in his mind. The way his stomach flipped as he'd opened his eyes to find Steve's arms and legs draped over Bucky, claiming him like a blonde baby octopus, and damn if Bucky didn't love every second. Which is why he had to get up, untangle himself then stare down at Steve for way more time than was polite. He watched as Steve inhaled roughly, fingers questing out to find Bucky's warmth again before pouting when he found nothing and falling deeper back into sleep.

"Shit…" Bucky sat back heavily, twirling his coffee mug in his hands, wondering and hoping if their sleeping arrangements was now a thing they did. He should try and tamper down on the excitement that thought garnered, because he  _ really _ should sleep on the couch, if only for self preservation and all.

An hour and two crosswords later, Steve stumbled into the seat next to him, tousled and so beautiful it made Bucky's chest hurt.

"Coffee?"

"Please…" Steve's voice ridiculously deep and rumbling and Bucky jumped up, cursing he couldn't have a quick 'shower' to alleviate the tightness in his groin. It was going to be another long day.

By that evening, Bucky was on his last nerve. Steve had been stuck to his side all day, and sure, he was on board for all of it, except his fingers twitched every few minutes as they wanted to grab Steve and do unspeakable things to his body. Steve seemed oblivious that his small touches, shy smiles and staring up through his eyelashes for almost fifteen hours straight was driving Bucky to distraction.

It didn't help that the cabin was so secluded or that they were under veritable house arrest, so there was nothing  _ to _ do but drink coffee, play cards and read books,  _ together _ it seemed. Steve was apparently a person who liked being in close company, well, ever since he'd gotten over his initial prickliness.

They were on the couch and Steve was reading his trashy novel when he suddenly slumped against Bucky who went rigid in defense, unable to take it anymore.

"You okay?" Steve glanced up at him, blue eyes wide, innocent and -  _ goddamn it. _

Jumping up just as Steve’s fingers reached for his arm, he made an excuse about having another shower (because three in one day was normal) and fled like a man-sized chicken.

He spent more time than strictly necessary under the water, enjoying the heat and needle-like spray which hit his shoulders, slowly relaxing him, minute by minute. He dried off thoroughly, hoping by the time he came out, Steve might be asleep or absorbed in his book, doing anything but wanting Bucky’s attention, because the attention he wanted to lavish on Steve was not PG in nature. 

What Bucky really needed was to get some solid unbroken sleep, then he’d be able to put up some guards against his irresistible guest. He dressed in loose sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt he’d grabbed from the closet and headed out, steeling himself.

Steam from the shower escaped into the cabin as he opened the door and walked through, scrubbing his wet hair with a towel. And Steve was right there, hip jutted out against the kitchen table as if he’d been waiting the entire time for Bucky. He stalled, glad he’d not jerked off again - he'd been lucky to get away with it once.

He watched with trepidation as Steve squared his shoulders and raised his jaw, almost as if readying himself for a fight, what the hell was going on?

“Don't you want me?”

“What...? Uh…” Bucky’s brain went into meltdown, how did he answer that truthfully without scaring the shit out of Steve with his monstrous need for him?

“Look, I know I'm small, but I'm tough.”

“I, shit. Yeah of course I know that. That's not-"

“-but you prefer men like Captain America right?” Steve interrupted.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Bucky had to check he wasn’t in a parallel universe, this was not happening. At Steve’s hum of annoyance, he realised it  _ was _ happening. “Right... are you asking me who, or what type of people I'm attracted to... specifically?”

Steve nodded curtly, eyebrow raised because of course Bucky knew exactly what he was asking, yet there was something oddly vulnerable behind his bravado and Bucky knew what he answered here would be important.

“Okay, full disclosure, I’m bi, I like men and women of all kinds, and yes - The Cap is extremely attractive. I may have had one or two inappropriate thoughts,  _ hell _ …” he scrubbed his face because admitting he’d had marathon jerk-off sessions about him was probably not what Steve was looking for, “but after working with him for a year or so, it was clear he never wanted me, never gave any indication. So that’s really a moot point.”

Bucky didn't miss the way Steve shook his head emphatically like Bucky was misinformed, but then his chin came up further and the hooded heated gaze he slathered on, started to make Bucky’s cock take notice. It was almost as if Steve  _ liked _ the thought he’d found The Cap attractive. And that was the moment his sane mind took off, said ‘screw you guys I’m leaving’ and left only his burning desire for Steve to remain.

“But, fuck. _ You _ . You with your too blue eyes, your snark, your stubborness, jesus you’re even from fucking Brooklyn, you’re anything  _ but  _ safe for me.”

Steve’s eyes widened with each word, lips forming a response, but Bucky had to finish now he’d started, needed to get it out - play every card in his hand. No more bluffing.

“Steve, you've knocked me on my ass, I’m completely and utterly stupid about you.”

It looked like someone suckerpunched Steve, his mouth agape, disbelief and something else undefinable in his wide eyes. “So why the fuck have you been ignoring my signals? Jesus, Bucky I’ve been practically throwing myself at you?”

Bucky went slack jawed, “what?” he garbled.

“I could not have made it any plainer, I mean I guess I could have joined you in the shower yesterday…” he trailed off, undeniable desire in his eyes.

“Well... fuck.” Bucky managed to breathe, then pinched himself, there was no way-

Steve was suddenly pressed up against the front of him.  _ Okay, there was a way. _

“But, are  _ you _ sure you want this?” Steve whispered, a small tremor in his voice.

“More than you realise.  _ Shit _ ,” Bucky cupped Steve’s face reverently, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” Bucky had heaven within his reach and he wanted to grasp it with both hands and not let go. “So then, Steve, can I kiss you now?”

Steve’s eyes flickered shut as if hearing his name on Bucky’s lips so softly was something he’d longed for and nodded.

Bucky wasn’t waiting for an engraved invitation and dove in.

This kiss was just as shattering as their first. Bucky's entire world tilted sideways as he leant down and tugged Steve (Steve!) tighter to him, lips moving reverently against his.

Fingers, deft and questing tangled through his damp hair and Steve growled into his mouth, "Fuck - your hair, it's just…" he trailed off and pressed himself into Bucky, lips opening and tounge delving in, filling Bucky's mouth and cutting off his own words. It was hot.

Time must have blipped, because one second they were standing in the kitchen the next Steve had crowded him up against the bed and Bucky had no recollection how they made it there. He wasn’t complaining, Steve was in complete control whether he knew it or not.

Impatiently Steve tugged on Bucky’s t-shirt and he chuckled, pulling back from the deepening kiss. “You want this off?”

Big eyes full of lust met his as Steve nodded unsteadily, impatiently grabbing the bottom of the fabric to rip it up over Bucky’s chest, who, smiling at Steve’s eagerness, grasped it from his nape and yanked it off in one motion.

“Holy shit.” Steve whispered in near worship, eyes flitting across Bucky’s wide chest - not even giving his uncovered metal arm a second look, which was intriguing considering he’d never seen it up close before.  _ Huh. _

“Can I?” Steve asked, fingers twitching as they hovered above Bucky’s chest. How was that question even valid? A thousand times yes.

“Knock yourself out,” he rasped as Steve’s cool fingers traced themselves over his pecks. Cupping one side of his broad chest, Steve flicked his thumb over Bucky’s nipple which tore a groan from deep in his chest.

“You’re built to perfection, god - I knew you’d be gorgeous, but - fuck... I want you, always have, for months now.” Steve whispered as he leaned in, Bucky wondering on the words a moment, then teeth bit softly around a nipple and Bucky lost coherent thought for a good thirty seconds.

When he came back to himself, Steve was tugging at his sweat pants and when they were down to his ankles, he was unceremoniously pushed onto the bed. It was getting embarrassing how out of it he was, how he kept losing time, how he hadn’t even managed to touch Steve in return. He wasn’t playing fair, he needed to make Steve feel good, his programming required it.

Meanwhile, Steve drank him in as he stood at the foot of the bed, looking at his nakedness; he felt himself flush from his neck to his toes at the intensity behind the veil of lust. Steve gazed hungrily at his cock and he felt it twitch involuntarily, if possible Steve’s eyes grew darker at the movement. 

Bucky reached out, fingers reaching towards Steve’s t-shirt, “please, I want to touch you too.”

The smile blinding as Steve took off his shirt then shucked his pants, and suddenly he was gloriously naked and Bucky was really going to self combust. This was happening. This was real. Grant,  _ no _ it was Steve - Steve wanted him in return, very much so if the jutting obscenely huge cock (how was that proportionate?) was any indication.

Mouth watering, Bucky couldn’t help whine as he sat up and reached forward, grasping Steve’s cock lightly in his hand, stroking, watching in rapture as his eyes fluttered shut. The words slipped out unbidden, “I can’t wait for this to be inside of me, filling me up.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a deep shocked breath, wonder filling his features. “Oh, shit - you can not be for real.”

Bucky keened as Steve pushed him back down and climbed on top, straddling him, thrusting his hips just so that their naked cocks lined up.

“Yes,” he garbled, the slick smoothness of Steve’s against his own. It was perfection, utter perfection. Then Steve’s hot little hand wrapped around them both and gave an experimental tug. Bucky lifted his hips off the bed, taking Steve with him.

“Whoa, easy there.” He chuckled, “and as much as I want to bury myself in you so deep, sweetheart. I’m not going to, not now,” he ignored Bucky’s growl of protest. “I want to take you apart properly when that happens.  _ Now _ , I want to make  _ you _ feel good.”

“S’all feels good,” Bucky managed to garble, and hazily wondered exactly how sleep deprived he was to be this loose, to have allowed Steve all the control. Who was he kidding, he fucking loved giving up control. 

“I know,” Steve moved forward, hand still around their cocks, lazily pulling moans out of Bucky before he nipped at his neck. Bucky arched his head back into the pillow to give him more skin to attack. He loved having his neck kissed and licked. He could lay there for hours, hard and wanting, but never get sick of it. “Oh, you like this hey?”

Bucky hummed in response, hands coming up to grasp Steve’s hips and ground up, making them both gasp.

“I’ve got you,” Steve smiled into his neck, before slithering down his body, Bucky feebly trying to bring him back up for a kiss. “As unsexy as this is, when did you last have a medical?”

Trying to think with his actual brain was near on impossible when Steve was kneeling between his thighs, hand curled around his prick, mouth red from the kisses he’s been placing all over him.  _ Fuck. _

“Buck? SHIELD medical?”

“Oh, er, like two months ago - came back all clear. Haven’t - oh, fuck do that again, your wrist movement is, Jesus… haven’t been with anyone since.”

“Good, same for me,” then Steve bent himself over and Bucky’s cock was enveloped in wet, slick heat and he just about shot his load immediately.

Steve didn’t relent, his tongue hard up against the underside of Bucky’s dick, cupping and licking as his head bobbed, taking him inch by agonising inch. Saliva pooled down Bucky’s ass and he spread his legs wider so Steve had room, but instead of utilising the extra space as intended, Steve wrapped a hand around the base of Bucky’s cock while simultaneously rubbing and pressing on the sensitive skin behind his balls with the other. 

Holy mother in heaven, the sparking electric currents coursing through him almost made him weep. Bucky was in a sea of pleasure.

Glancing down was a mistake, watching his cock disappear and reappear between Steve’s lusciously thick lips was a form of exsquisite torture. He was ethereal, gorgeous, everything Bucky was looking for, and then Steve looked up, catching Bucky’s hooded gaze. Bucky glimpsed the smallest ring of blue around his blown pupils, before Steve closed them in ecstasy, licking, sucking and clearly enjoying the taste of his cock.

“Oh my god,” Bucky moaned into his fist as the sounds of Steve sucking for all he was worth filled the cabin. It was obscene, it was fucking delightful. He wasn’t going to last long at all.

As his balls tightened, Steve pinched his thigh making him look back down, the instruction clear - don’t look away. Bucky wasn’t sure he could even if he wanted to.

Then Steve the little shit, hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard while the featherlight tease of a finger at his hole softly probed, testing the ring of muscle. Just as the tip of Steve’s finger pushed beyond the tightness - Bucky arched up and came with an aborted shout. Grabbing Steve’s head with his flesh hand he twitched and growled out his pleasure, flashes of white bursting behind his eyes, embarrassment flooding him at coming with no warning. It just wasn’t polite.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“- you’re fucking delicious, Bucky. I never  _ not _ want you to come in my mouth.” 

His heart thrummed, did that mean what he hoped it did? This wasn’t a one and done? Christ it couldn’t be. He’d be devastated if it was, and wasn’t that a scary thought. How invested was he?

Steve crawled up so he was straddling his chest, cock hard and weeping, and without preamble began to stroke himself, throwing his head back as he increased his grip and pace.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” Steve demanded and Bucky’s soul shook from deep within. He was fucking invested alright - he was all in.

Watching Steve jerk off over him was hands down the hottest thing ever, his slim chest and neck flushed red, large cock dripping with pre-come and the confidence and allure he exuded was absolutely breathtaking.

Slitted dark blue eyes looked down at him and Bucky opened his mouth even wider, begging for Steve to come all over him, tongue shaking with the desire to taste him. Steve swore, voice low and gravelly, “look at you, so good, waiting for my load. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Steve’s hand flew over his cock impossibly fast as he chased his release, then came with a small shout, jerking himself so stripes of come hit Bucky’s upper chest, chin and then gloriously his lips and cheeks. Darting his tongue out he tasted Steve’s saltiness, he immediately craved more, licking his tongue out further afield, shit, he was addicted. 

Watching intently, Steve leaned over, wiping Bucky's cheek with his forefinger then placed it between Bucky’s lips who eagerly sucked it clean. He continued until Steve, panting heavily with a look of awe on his face climbed off to disappear for a second, before coming back to wipe him clean properly with a washcloth from the bathroom.

“That was… phenomenal,” Bucky managed to stumble out, “you’re phenomenal…”

“You’re not wrong on one of those counts, now sleep, you need it,” Steve said softly, a small hesitancy about him as he sat on the side of the bed. Bucky didn’t even think, just grabbed Steve, tugging until he lay beside him, lifting the blankets up and over. Then Steve was behind him, curled up tight.

The last thing Bucky remembered before passing out was the softest kiss to his temple and the feeling of contentment in his belly, something he’d not felt since before the war.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, basically this chapter is a gratuitous study of two men.  
> Naked.  
> A lot.  
> (read… porn)
> 
> These boys wouldn't leave me alone until they got it either… ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also - you HAVE to check out the most amazing art Ilyone drew for chapter five. I may have squealed, ran around the room like a loon and just died a little from how wonderfully she's captured the moment between these two boys. Find it [ Here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663954)

Bucky woke slowly, sunlight dancing across his closed eyelids. He was warm, content and felt like he'd had the longest and most comfortable sleep of his entire life.

He allowed the moment of being completely wrapped up in Steve to linger, the smaller figure draped across his torso, thigh slotted between his legs, hand curled up in Bucky's hair. He grinned, it was confirmed - Steve was an aggressive cuddler, he'd not expected anything less.

Wiggling to alleviate the morning aches, he felt Steve come back into consciousness, lips lazily kissing Bucky's jawline.

"Love your stubble, s'hot," Steve's voice was sleep heavy and sounded like he'd just smoked fifteen packs of cigarettes.  _ Fuck _ , he had a voice Bucky wanted to drown in.

"Morning," Bucky rumbled in reply.

Steve squinted at him and broke out into a wide grin, "morning yourself. Sleep well?"

"The best."

Snuggling with Steve in the morning was now his number one priority for the foreseeable future. He'd take it for as long as he could. How on earth he'd made such a resolute connection with someone after only a couple of weeks was completely out of character for him. Bucky very rarely allowed himself to feel like this, to be free and care about someone, what made it even more compelling was that he didn't know Steve, not really. There were secrets upon secrets between them, and although Steve knew the biggest secret of Bucky's, he still didn't know anything except Steve's real name. It concerned him, of course it did, he wasn't unaffected by the lies of omission, but he was hoping (in vain) Steve would let him in. 

Working for SHIELD he understood all too well that some people were too highly classified and their role within deemed too secret, and Steve  _ had _ to fall in that category, otherwise why else would he be holding his truth so tightly to his chest? But Natasha seemed to know, and that sat funny within him. A second later he realised he was jealous, absolutely completely irreversibly jealous. He wanted to be the one Steve trusted above all others.

"Hey, you with me?" Steve's voice interrupted his inner monologue, fingers pressing into Bucky’s jaw so he could look at him properly. 

Instead of replying, Bucky used his bulk to roll over and pin Steve beneath him, who squeaked in surprise at the movement, but looked far from unhappy about the turn of events. If anything he gazed up in complete adoration - and wasn't that something.

Dipping down he captured Steve’s lips in a long and sweet kiss, which soon deepened into something altogether different, tongues tangling and short sharp needy breaths escaping both of their throats. Did Bucky say he’d like this for the foreseeable future? He was pretty sure he meant forever.

Steve thrust up into Bucky, and he felt the growing interest against his stomach, mouth watering at the thought of having Steve again, licking him, sucking, engulfing him until there was nothing left between them but sweat and orgasms. They had nowhere to be, so he couldn’t see why they shouldn’t spend the next few days absorbed in the other, offering and taking pleasure where they saw fit. Bucky’s stomach turned over in excitement of what could be.

“What do you want?” He husked into Steve’s neck as he left a path of wet kisses, moving lower, loving the way Steve squirmed and gasped. It was the most heady sensation, knowing this was real, this was Steve, this was his - for now.

“Where do I start? Everything…”

Bucky chuckled throatily, the shiver in response to his rumble from Steve gratifying.

“Everything? Well then - best get started.”

Bucky took Steve apart with his mouth, and Steve didn’t argue once - it was perfect.

  
  


“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Bucky roused himself for the second time that morning, noting the sun had risen above the railing out the window, it had to be about ten in the morning.

“What? I’m sleeping here.”

Steve pinched his arm and he rolled over with an unhappy frown, noticing for the first time that Steve was already freshly showered and wearing another one of his old t-shirts (Incubus this time) and too large shorts from the chest of drawers. He looked edible.

“Fuck,” he rubbed a hand over his face, seeing Steve cock his head in question, and gestured at him. “Seriously, you in my old clothing - it does something to me.”

“Oh, really?” Steve grinned, “I must say you definitely have something for nineties rock bands. It was this or Pearl Jam.”

“Tough choice, but I really  _ do _ have something for you wearing them - come here.” Bucky reached out to a beaming Steve who danced away from his grasp, he pouted.

“Get up and have a shower, I want breakfast.”

Bucky grumbled about bossy morning people, but dragged himself from the bed, enjoying the way Steve’s darkening eyes followed his nakedness to the shower. Making a promise to himself that he’d be back to find out exactly what Steve was planning behind those guileless blue eyes. 

When he’d finished in the bathroom, he wandered into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist to see Steve already sitting at the table, but no coffee, nor had he taken anything from the freezer. Thinking it a little odd, Bucky went to the stove to start breakfast but Steve’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I believe I said I wanted breakfast.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Steve staring right back, chair pushed out from the table a little, brow quirked.

“Yeah, alright give me a minute.”

“No, I think you misunderstood me.” Steve crooked his finger and motioned for Bucky to come closer. Bucky’s gut clenched.  _ Oh. _

Walking over, Bucky came to a standstill before a seated Steve. 

“Lose the towel.”

Fabric had never dropped to the floor quicker. Bucky stood before Steve’s hungry eyes, cock filling out rapidly, untouched.

“Now, lean over the table.”

Bucky started, “What?”

“ _ Lean over the table.” _ Steve repeated in a long suffering tone. “I said I wanted breakfast.”

_ Shit.  _ He’d made the assumption Steve was going to suck his cock down, that was clearly not the intention and his heartbeat ratcheted up about fifteen notches. Was Steve going to eat him out on his kitchen table, laid open like a meal?

Steve clearly got sick of waiting for Bucky to reanimate and yanked his arm, making him fall forward, chest hitting the table as his brain turned to mush. Steve to his credit, pulled the chair back in close, spreading Bucky’s legs out either side of his lap to a point where Bucky was on his tiptoes, completely vulnerable and completely spread out for Steve. For  _ Steve’s _ tongue -  _ oh god, _ his body rippled.

Soft hands touched his thighs, rubbing up and down, soothing. Bucky relaxed, glad he wasn’t so far forward that his cock would be trapped beneath him and the hard wood of the table, but hung free just before the edge. Not that anything was hanging, per se - every part of him was taut in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed and Bucky could feel the small puff of air on his skin as he spoke. “You’re so pretty, so damn gorgeous. And all mine.”

Before Bucky could relish in Steve’s words, sure steady hands spread his cheeks and the flat of Steve’s tongue licked from balls right through over his hole. Lingering over his tightness with a small filthy slurp.

“Christ,” Bucky ground out, eyes shut tightly at the strange yet pleasant sensation, embarrassment still warring with excitement. He was so fucking horny, from Steve ordering him and taking what he wanted, and from being spreadeagled on the kitchen table, curtains open and exposed intimately.

Steve leaned back, his thumb suddenly flicking over his rim, teasing before leaning back in and licking all around. Both finger and tongue moving together made Bucky gasp sharply and he couldn’t help but push back against Steve, asking for more without speaking. The soft laugh at his neediness should have been mortifying, but wasn’t.

“You want more? Because, too bad if you don’t sweetheart, you’re not going anywhere. I’ve finally got you right where I’ve wanted you since we met.” 

Then Steve was back against him, tongue languid in it’s strokes, up and over, twisting around his hole, dipping in quickly then giving kitten licks. Bucky grasped the corners of the table tightly, trying to gain footing as he arched to the tips of his toes. Fucking hell, Steve could eat ass.

Bucky moaned wantonly, like a man possessed as Steve lapped, his tongue finally starting to properly breach him, it was fucking glorious. His cock hung heavy and sensitive between his legs and he didn’t even lament the lack of touch to it.

Wet, loud suckling noises filled the kitchen, it was so dirty and obscene, but he was there for it, he’d never felt so cherished, cared for, like his pleasure was paramount. Bucky’s high pitched grunts were pulled from deep within as his eyes rolled to the back of his head once Steve’s tongue had wriggled itself in as deep as it could. Nothing on the planet could ever eclipse this moment.

Steve pulled back, massaging the flesh of Bucky’s ass cheeks, forehead pressed against his thigh, breath just as ragged as Bucky's, and he was pleased Steve wasn't as unaffected as he appeared. Fingers replaced the tongue, slowly moving in and out, making Bucky’s calves tighten at the different sensation. Steve gave soft worshipful kisses over his backside all while pumping his digits into his heat, knuckles catching on the rim every time he drew back out. Bucky wanted more,  _ oh _ , so much more.

“You’re so responsive, so fucking good for me. I love tasting you, baby.”

His stomach thrilled at the endearment and praise all wrapped up together, then the fingers disappeared and with a loud growl of pure hunger, Steve pulled his cheeks wide apart. Bucky choked as Steve's mouth fully covered his hole, pushing his questing tongue as far as he could. Then the bastard started to suck and Bucky all but flew up off the table, Steve was much stronger than he looked and managed to hold him in place. 

Incoherent words fell from Bucky’s throat, he couldn’t tell what he garbled, he knew words like, ‘so good’, ‘perfect’, ‘more’, ‘deeper’ escaped him.

Time lost all meaning, Steve could have been tonguing him for minutes or an hour, all that existed was them in that moment and Bucky was wound taut, a bundle of short circuits ready to blow. Steve's hand grasped his cock tightly and squeezed while twisting his wrist, and Bucky knew he was gone.

“Come for me.” Steve demanded then returned his mouth back to tease his now loose rim.

Bucky whimpered, and just as Steve pushed a finger in beside his tongue, he came violently, bucking on the table making Steve pull back, else he injure himself. He lay on the hard surface, sweaty, open and completely and utterly fucking  _ sated _ .

Steve continued to stroke his twitching spent cock lightly as he came back into his body, almost over sensitised, but not wanting Steve to loosen his grip for a moment. Bucky craved touch. He barely noticed when Steve stood up to lower himself over Bucky's back running a soothing hand up his spine, to nip at his ear.

“I’m not done yet. I’m going to fuck you into the table now. Fill your greedy ass right up.”

He died. Dig a hole and bury him in it, because Steve had just killed him. Wriggling back he presented himself, needing to be filled, to feel more connected with Steve than he probably had a right to.

"Look at you, damn." Steve said, voice blown and Bucky heard clothes fall to the floor and wriggled in anticipation.

Steve's fingers were back, slick with lube, making sure Bucky was loose enough, but he was an impatient shit and pushed back against him.

"I'm good, want you in me. So much…"

"Alright, I've got you, I promise. Just needed to make sure I don't hurt you. Gonna make you feel so good Buck."

The loss of fingers then the nudge of something exponentially larger against his rim, made Bucky whimper. God he'd missed this, the closeness, the taste of being at someone's mercy.

Then he was full, Steve pushing in and in until Bucky couldn't breathe. Tears sprung up in the corners of his eyes, it felt right, it was all too much and yet not nearly enough.

"You good, sweetheart?"

Bucky nodded and let out a strangled noise, "move…"

Steve complied, fucking into Bucky's tightness with a one track mind - to make him scream. He succeeded, again and again. Steve's pace was relentless, never allowing Bucky a full deep breath before nailing back into him, over and over, deeper than it could be possible. He was so full, he felt like nirvana was close at hand, and Steve was there handing it to him on a platter.

"Christ, I'm going to come," Steve's rhythm began to falter, "you feel too good around me."

Bucky reared up as much as he could while Steve pounded into him like a jackhammer, the table legs screeching on the floor, then suddenly, gloriously Steve thrust deep, and stayed. 

Bucky's head hit the tabletop with a thunk, sweat beading across his brow as Steve twitched inside him, filling him like he'd craved. 

They stood like that for a while, panting heavily, getting their bearings back, then Steve slipped from him, but he couldn't move, not yet. His breathing erratic and his body singing. A warm dampness dabbed at his used fluttering hole, cleaning him thoroughly and he smiled sleepily. Steve was very good at looking after him.

"Hey, how about you lay down again, I'll get us something to eat."

Bucky glanced over his shoulder cheekily, "maybe you could serve me up something like  _ you _ had for breakfast."

Steve's face flamed red, and he ducked his head,  _ interesting _ , seemed he  _ was _ shy about some things. It only made Bucky more determined to repay the favour.

The following evening Bucky threw another log onto the blazing fire he'd started and turned back to Steve who was snuggled into the couch, the book placed to the side in lieu of watching Bucky. He smirked, making Steve flush.

"See something you like?" He teased.

"Very much so."

This time Bucky flushed, still a little astonished how Steve walked the fine line of being so confidently cocky, yet also a blushing embarrassed mess. It was fucking adorable and Bucky just wanted to wrap him up and keep him.

Bucky stalked back to the couch and straddled Steve, loving the sharp inhale he received as he settled on his lap. Steve gazed up, a shocked awed expression on his face, like he couldn’t believe Bucky was here, this accessible. Bucky was so close to saying ‘me too pal’, but didn’t.

Instead of trying to verbalise how surreal and astonishing it all was, he leant down and caught Steve's lips in a soft kiss, not deepening it, just content to be close and press his mouth against his. Then he grabbed Steve's arms, spinning off him to fall to the side, taking a yelping Steve with him so he was now nestled in Bucky's arms, small body splayed on top of him.

"Jesus, you're a tentacle monster."

"You complaining champ?"

Wriggling into a more comfortable position, Steve just hummed in response, "not at all."

Sighing happily, Bucky ran his fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at the different shades of blonde which caught in the warm firelight. He was rapidly losing his bad boy persona of the Winter Soldier, his insides felt like they were made of marshmallow.

They'd spent the past two days exploring each other, Bucky finding the tickliest and most sensitive spots on Steve's body, who in turn teased him mercilessly, including tying his arms to the headboard and using his mouth and hands to take him apart, more than once. Bucky still couldn't believe he'd not asked about the arm, not a whisper. He'd not shied away from it either, he touched it the same as Bucky’s flesh arm. Bucky adored that he seemed not to care, but the fact he'd not said a word was disconcerting in the least. People always asked how it happened, or at least gave him a pitying look, Steve did neither. Bucky pushed aside the niggling thoughts and basked in the contact high instead. He wasn't touch starved, not really, but he was generally picky at who he let close. It was funny then, that he had no qualms about Steve storming into his life like a conquering king to own him, to touch him without hesitation.

Sex wasn't all they explored, they spoke about their childhoods (a safe nuetral topic), Bucky learning about Steve's mother, Sarah, who he'd lost years ago but still spoke with sadness at not being able to say goodbye. Bucky lightened the mood to tell him about his sister, Becca and mom who stuck their noses into his business constantly. Until he'd said,

"They're going to love you, I'm going to get so much shit."

Steve had gone so stiff and quiet, only letting out the smallest sound, and Bucky had swiftly changed the subject to talk about his college days prior to joining the army, swallowing down the bitter disappointment of Steve's reaction. It took a little bit to recalibrate and he made them another hot drink just to do something with his hands as he spoke.

Apart from his perceived faux pas, which Bucky didn’t revisit, he managed to tease out that Steve loved baseball, having robust debates about politics, old jazz greats and had a soft spot for New York style cheesecakes (coincidentally the one and only thing Bucky happened to be able to bake). It was almost information overload and Bucky absorbed every morsel.

The bubble of closeness they'd created at the cabin was not sustainable in the real world, Bucky knew this, could tell Steve did as well in his small glances, but he ignored it. If all he got was this time, right now - he'd take it, a million times over, no matter how much he was investing himself (stupidly).

He had no idea when Natasha or Fury would contact them to come in, whether it was safe to return. Although Bucky wasn't certain he wanted to take Steve back to New York, not if it wasn’t a hundred percent safe. But the call could come any day, it was expected.

So therefore, Bucky decided he had to make every second count.

Steve must have noticed the mood change in the air, as he lifted the top half of his body up off Bucky’s chest so he could look into his face. How could anything be as blue as those eyes?

He then smiled crookedly at whatever expression he saw and ran his hand through one side of Bucky's hair, tucking it behind an ear.

"Your hair is so soft."

Bucky smiled fondly. "Thanks. I use conditioner by the truck load, costs me hundreds of dollars a month because it comes from Finland."

Steve laughed unabashedly, it punched something off balance in the depths of Bucky's gut, "really?"

"Really." He deadpanned then broke into a shit eating grin, pushing whatever was happening in his chest aside.

"Totally worth every penny," Steve murmured as he leaned up to kiss Bucky's mouth, eyes shining in mirth. It was in that moment he understood. Bucky's heart stopped thumping for himself and started beating for more, for this, for Steve.  _ Oh fuck _ .

He grasped the back of Steve's head, holding him close to kiss him within an inch of his life, hiding what he knew was blatantly unfurling across his face. He needed a minute to mask it.

Steve growled, misunderstanding Bucky’s intent and climbed up on top of him properly, knees either side of his hips and Bucky felt himself hardening once more (how his cock hadn't fallen off from overuse he didn't know). But he welcomed the distraction.

The flickering pop of the fire danced shadows and light across their bodies, making the entire scene feel impossibly more intimate, softer, real. Or maybe it was Bucky’s realisation, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t about to stop.

Before he let his heart make stupid decisions for his mouth, he slid his hands down to cup Steve's ass and ground up into him, pleased at the responding whine.

"Can I… god, can I ride you?" Steve husked a moment later and Bucky's brain went offline. “Buck?” Steve questioned hesitantly.

"Fuck… yes, absolutely, Stevie. Are you sure?"

Biting his lip, he nodded, "it's been a while,” he chuckled and shook his head, “but with you, I want to. I want to do everything at least once."

Bucky tried not to hear a goodbye in the words but couldn't help it. Steve jumped up to find their almost empty bottle of lube while Bucky undressed, pushing all the doubts and bad thoughts to the back of his mind. He was good at ignoring triggers usually, surely Steve’s words would be the same.

Steve came back naked, golden skin on display, the earlier self consciousness of his body eradicated over the sheer amount of togetherness they’d shared. The smile he gave Bucky equal parts ravenous and desperate, he was heartbreakingly alluring. Bucky knew he’d never get enough of this, ever.

Climbing back on top, Steve left open mouthed kisses up Bucky’s neck to his jaw, eliciting a full body shiver. “Incredible, you’re just so damn -”

Bucky grabbed him, kissing him hard, wanting to swallow the words at the same time as needing to hear them, his poor heart was going to explode.

The snick of the bottle opening diverted his thoughts from spiralling further, and before Steve could pour the lube on his own fingers, Bucky stopped him with a rush of quiet words, ‘please, let me?”

Steve’s eyes softened as a fond yet pleased look passed through them, and he nodded. Bucky wasted no time and grabbed the bottle, slicking his fingers. He moved Steve slightly up on his body, knees either side of his stomach and with all the care in the world pulled him down to press his mouth to the underside of his jaw and teased his wet fingers against the core of Steve.

He was tight, he was perfect and although Bucky preferred to be filled, he couldn’t wait to be deep inside of his Steve.

Bucky took his time, teasing, pushing, spreading until Steve was a writhing sweaty mess against his chest, mouth agape, drool and tears escaping as he panted and begged for more. Bucky was in rapture watching the changing expressions as the throaty words punched from Steve. He was either Steve’s perfect sweetheart, or a damn fucking tease, dependant on how deep his fingers thrust and if he was pumping slow or quick. Steve was quite simply the most flawless person on the entire planet and he was Bucky’s and it suddenly didn’t matter for how long, because for the rest of his days he would have this moment, he would have this memory. It would be enough,  _ surely _ . 

“You ready for me baby?” 

Steve nodded his head violently, murmuring how he’d been ready for hours. The little punk was incorrigible.

Then finally Bucky drew up his knees, cock lining superbly with Steve’s loosened hole and although he’d done his best to ready him, he could tell the burn of the stretch hit Steve as he entered him, in a good way. His eyes closed as he sat up, hands clasped over Bucky’s large chest, fingers twitching and digging in as ecstasy and fulfilment blanketed his expression.  _ Fuck, _ he was just too much.

Bucky gave him a minute to adjust, but Steve wasn’t having any of that, pinching a nipple (which, shit, he was so in for) and telling him to fucking move. He did.

Placing his hands over Steve’s sharp hips, he slowly started to pump up into him in a steady mind shattering pace. A hard ball of adrenaline and lust began to spread through his body, and Bucky tingled all over from the sensations of his cock being buried deep. Steve was  _ so _ tight, slippery with lube and hugged his cock snug in a way that made Bucky grit his teeth against coming straight away with no provocation. 

Steve threw his head back, the long line of his neck too exquisite to ignore and Bucky sat up, his core burning, but the surprised and gratified squeak from Steve worth it. He licked and kissed the exposed taut skin until Steve, now used to the different position began to grind down on Bucky as he shallowly thrust up. Their bodies were in complete sync and Bucky knew this was the best fucking sex of his life.

Catching Bucky’s mouth, Steve panted deeply into it as they moved together, not really kissing, just sharing air and groans of pure pleasure as their lips touched. He had no idea where Steve's head was at, but they were most definitely  _ not  _ fucking, this was something so much more.

Steve pushed him back down, gasping when Bucky started to jack up hard on every other stroke. Steve’s blown eyes met his and didn’t waver, unblinkingly they stared deeply at each other, Bucky’s hips in an instinctive, age old movement, keeping them on the cusp of more. It was so deeply intimate and it was everything.

Slowly he began to increase his tempo, circling his hips as he pushed up, trying to find the perfect spot to make Steve lose control. Steve keened the sweetest whimper as he gasped Bucky’s name and he couldn’t help the satisfaction welling deep inside that he had made Steve feel this good. Then Steve started to ride him hard, chasing his satisfaction and he wasn’t going to last.

Reaching between them Bucky grasped Steve’s cock, stroking it haphazardly, unable to get a proper rhythm because the bundle of gorgeousness sitting on his cock squirmed too much. Bucky started to snap his hips up chasing his own orgasm, unable to handle watching Steve bounce on him while he came undone any longer. He needed the wash of rapture to begin at his toes then sweep through his body until he couldn’t think. Steve flailed and tightened himself around his cock.

“Yeah, Stevie, come for me, come on my cock.” he husked out, pumping his hand quicker over Steve’s engorged prick.

Then Steve was coming with a shout, beautifully and completely. Bucky’s name a mantra on his tongue as he jumbled his words together, come bursting over Bucky’s stomach in long delicious stripes. Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer, gripping Steve’s hips so tight he’d leave bruises and fucked up, hard and fast, relentlessly all while Steve yelled and shivered. His orgasm hit him like a truck and he bellowed Steve’s name into the quiet cabin, twitching deeply, filling Steve up, feeling utterly possessive.

Steve slumped over his chest, squishing his mess between them until his cheek rested on Bucky’s shoulder, breathing hard as they continued to spasm and come down from their respective euphoria’s.

Bucky stroked his fingers softly over Steve’s back, comfortingly, lovingly. Surely he couldn’t be the only one feeling what was happening between them?

“I want to tell you.” Steve blurted, voice still shaky. “But I shouldn’t.”

Bucky frowned, “tell me what? That you don’t like dick?” he tried to joke, concerned Steve was going to say something he wouldn’t like.

“Ha, no you idiot. I very much like your dick.”

Bucky beamed at the fact Steve said ‘his’ dick.

“I want to… I want to tell you everything.”

“Everything?” Bucky echoed, trying desperately to keep the hope in his voice hidden.

Steve sat up, grimacing at the stickiness between them and caught Bucky’s gaze, “I’m under strict orders not to disclose anything about, well - me. But being here with you, sharing this. I mean, really, screw what SHIELD ordered me to do, they might not even exist anymore. But… it complicates things, and it’s dangerous and a million other things I don’t want to bring down on you.”

Steve looked torn apart by what he was trying to say, distressed and Bucky couldn’t believe what he was about to utter, because he wanted to know, wanted to know more than anything.

“Hey, bud. It’s okay. I  _ want _ to know, but only when  _ you’re _ ready. It’s your story, your truth and I will wait for however long it takes for you to tell me.”

It took Steve the longest time of searching Bucky’s face for any word of a lie, but obviously he saw his earnestness, as his body relaxed.

“Can you wait until morning? I need to make one phone call first.”

The wide smile on his face belying how wonderfully okay it was. “Sure, Stevie, the last few days have been pretty intense, in the best way,” he amended at Steve's huff. “The morning is perfect.”

Steve wriggled back down on his chest, a happy little hum escaping him and Bucky’s mind was whirling with the possibilities on what Steve might have to tell him. The anticipation was going to kill him.

“Just for the record, I’m not getting up yet, and you can get the towel this time.” Steve murmured 

Bucky laughed, making his softened cock slip from inside Steve, “Oh, that’s gross, okay, okay - I’ll go get a cloth.”

He deposited a languid Steve on the couch and went to the bathroom, excited and wondering what the new day would bring them.

Bucky woke early to thrashing beside him, and it wasn’t a good thing. 

“Steve!” he yelled trying to rouse an extremely sweaty and clearly in agony Steve. “What hurts, what’s happened, speak to me.”

Steve was doubled up on the bed, holding his stomach tightly, half unconscious, unable to respond to Bucky’s frantic questions properly.

“Nat…” he managed to groan painfully, then passed out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Bucky boomed into the room as he jumped up to grab the phone, slamming the SIM back in and dialling Nat’s number. He did this while grabbing a damp towel to wipe off the sweat and rushed back to Steve’s side, trying to position him comfortably while looking him over for any overt signs of damage. Nothing, whatever ailed him was internal.

“Fucking answer,” he yelled to the unending ring tone.

“Whoa, James?” Natasha’s tinny voice responded.

“Get here now, Steve’s he’s, just fucking hell - I need help, I don’t know what to do. It’s all fucking - fuck I think he could be dying.”

“Hey, snap out of it, Soldier.”

Bucky startled and realised he’d been freaking out, something he never did. He was known for his stoicness in battle, for not wavering. Steve hurt, had rendered him useless.

“Where are you, what’s happened? Is he breathing?”

Bucky checked, grateful when short staccato breaths came out of his small frame, but the distorted pain on his face more worrying as the twitching under his skin began again and his body started to writhe.

“We’re at my cabin, I’ve noticed he’s been having stomach cramps for a week or so, but he waved them off. Today they hit him hard and now he’s passed out, he’s thrashing about. I should’ve pushed him for answers.” 

"Oh shoot, I was worried this would happen.” She replied and Bucky saw red.

“What the fuck, Natasha? You should have told me, what the hell can I do? I swear to god if your silence has cost Steve anything I will hunt-”

“-James! Take a deep breath. We will be there in the quinjet soon, send your coordinates.” 

Bucky punched them through, “hurry up.”

He heard Natasha yell Lake Placid at someone, “be there as soon as we can. Just, fuck, just keep him alive.”

Bucky felt all the blood drain out of his face, it couldn't be that bad surely? He sat with Steve, holding him and trying to keep him cool and hoped like anything he’d open his big beautiful blue eyes so he knew everything was alright.

Waiting for the quinjet was the longest thirty minutes of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm - should I start with a huge sorry? Cliffhangers are horrible but necessary sometimes… and just a warning, it won't be the last one of the story... (eep)
> 
> But stick with me - I promise it will be worth it! And - yes - I also promise that Bucky will get some answers - very soon (very!) :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just quickly want to thank eveyone who's clicked in on this story and read it, kudoed, bookmarked and of course commented on it (you guys have been brilliant) - I can't tell you how much I appreciate the support!
> 
> So on that note - here we go...

Bucky mulled solemnly over a cup of untouched coffee, gone cold and thick. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the clinical whiteness of the Tower’s kitchen, but the fact he’d ignored his drink spoke volumes. He was tired, worried and ready to smack someone in the head from lack of answers. It had been two days, and all he'd heard about Steve’s condition (and second hand from Natasha at that), was he’d been taken to the best Doctors, alive, and couldn't have any visitors. It was fucking ludicrous. Bucky was ready to knock walls down to find him.

The other Avengers had taken his surly and silent disposition in their stride and for the most part ignored his clipped retorts and constant snappishness. Except Nat, who continued to give him looks halfway between pity and annoyance each time he snarled. He couldn’t figure out if it was her usual disdain for his melodramatic tendencies or if it held some significance.

In the two days he’d been back in New York, Bucky hadn’t been idle, and although he yearned to camp out in the infirmary (which he'd yet to find) and wait for answers, he knew he couldn’t. He had to keep moving, else he was afraid he’d crumple. And the Winter Soldier, did _not_ do that.

Cleaning up the breakfast he didn’t eat, he made his way to Tony’s lab where the rest of the team were meeting to finalise their plan of assault.

Without Bucky making a conscious decision, the team, well, Tony, Bruce, Thor and Hawkeye (Clint) had now seen his face, and he theirs in return. He’d not had a mask on when he arrived, hadn’t even thought about it, too concerned for Steve at the time. It was freeing, not having to hide who he was, to be able to walk around unfettered. Although he now couldn’t conceal his expressions behind hard plastic, and was certain every emotion was written plain as day across his features. _Especially_ when interacting with Tony.

Tony took one look at him and declared him, ‘damn delectable,’ then something about The Cap being perceptive before proceeding to bring up schematics on the facility where he believed Pierce had his ‘supersoldier’ laboratory. Bucky had whiplash between the spoken compliment and the clear dismissal, then shrugged it off. He _was_ damn delectable.

The operation they were working on was good so far in that is was messy and quick. Bucky soon saw that Bruce and Tony worked extremely well together (bickering aside) and in conjunction with Nat, Thor and his own combat insights while Clint supplied pizzas, they had a plan nutted out in a day and a half. His skin itched, body wound taut, Bucky was needing a fight, to kick ass, something to take his mind off Steve and what ailed him. He _knew_ Steve hadn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash or turned into a ridiculous talking duck, he _knew_ it - but his stupid brain would not switch off with far-fatched scenarios. 

“Who's coming in with us?” Bucky asked while they studied a map indicating where to infiltrate the large building. So far, Bucky could only see one issue with security, where the room was located, but he should be able to figure how to get there easily enough, he’d wing it - he usually did. Looking up to the others, he bit his tongue on the obvious question which had been on his mind since he arrived (in-between fretting about Steve). Where was Captain America?

Natasha gave him a sharp look, her eyes softening in understanding, which was disconcerting, she shouldn't be able to read him so easily. “Obviously us, here. We've put the call out to Antman, Falcon and Scarlet Witch, all three have skills we could use. So far only Falcon can commit.”

“That’s all?” he asked, still wondering where The Cap was, noting she didn't mention him on purpose, he could occasionally read Nat’s silences back. It was extremely unusual for Cap to be absent, especially since this revolved around a knock off serum made from his blood, _and_ it was happening in New York. Steves' intel was solid, surely The Cap had been told the stakes by now. So where the hell was he?

“With you on the team, Catwalk Soldier we have all the muscle we'll need.” Tony quipped.

Bucky scowled at the nickname, so far he’d been Winter Jawline, Soldier of Good Hair, Steel Blue Eyes of Magnolias and God of Thighs - which Thor seemed a little put out about - apparently Thunder didn’t encompass all of _his_ attributes. Bucky wished he had his mask, if only so he could throw a gas canister at Tony and wait him out.

“Since the fall of SHIELD, a lot of the other freelancers have their own local problems to deal with. Hydra’s reach across the world so far is indefinable. They’re everywhere. So what we have here in the way of a team, is it. Absolutely doable. But…” Natsha’s eyes fell on him, the weight of her gaze unsettling. “We _were_ hoping The Cap would join us, but he’s otherwise… indisposed, on another mission at the moment.”

He saw the quick look cast between Tony and Natasha and his insides turned over. Something else was going on, something to do with The Cap, and although Natasha masked it well, he saw a flash of worry - something had happened and they didn’t want anyone else in the room to know. Bucky’s stomach dropped at the sudden and dire implications, _shit._

“I hope The Captain joins us, he is a fighter unparalleled. I am always pleased to battle alongside him.” Thor exclaimed while flipping Mjõlnir from handle to head, over and over.

Distracted, yet also slightly mesmerized at the large hammer seemingly weighing nothing in Thor’s hand, Bucky attempted to gain more information.

“Fury has him on another mission, more important than this one?”

“Yes.” Natasha’s clipped tone brokered no room to ask anything further.

Bucky now had a secondary concern on his mind, clearly Steve was paramount, but he still felt _something_ for The Cap, maybe not as strong or all encompassing as it had been, but it was there.

“Right, we ship out at 04:00, so get rest while you can. We have no idea what to expect when we get there, so we need to be at our best.” Natasha dismissed them all.

He left the lab feeling more despondent than when he arrived, making his way to the rooms Tony had set up for him. Finding himself at a loss, he went to have a shower in the most ostentatious bathroom he’s ever seen (really Tony - six shower heads and two baths?) Twenty minutes later, because six shower heads actually was the perfect amount to get the heat so high it would prickle skin with pain, his body was relaxed and warm. Finding a suitcase with clothes from his apartment in the bedroom, assuming Natasha organised it, he pulled on a pair of soft sweats and a Soundgarden t-shirt before crashing on the couch to watch the food network. He was pining - hard.

A knock on his door half an hour later startled him and when he opened it, he was startled further. Natasha dressed casually in workout gear stood with two steaming cups of hot chocolate in hand, raising an eyebrow when he continued to eye her, not letting her in. He wasn’t certain if granting her access to his rooms was a good idea. Bucky was ready to throttle her for answers on Steve and _really_ liked the coffee table in the lounge and didn’t want to damage it when they started to fight, which was a certainty. But against his better judgement (and love for the table) he let her in.

As soon as they sat down on the plush lounge chairs, Bucky went to speak, but stopped when she held up her hand gently, and passed over a drink. It was good, and had pink marshmallows - he had three. Natasha clearly deflecting from the topic in hand, on purpose. Disgruntlement rose, but he fished out a marshmallow to placate himself. It worked for a minute.

“Look, I know you have questions, more than a few. But, I _can’t_ answer them.”

He scoffed then scowled at her, tempering all his annoyance into one look. “What the hell, Natasha? You drop an injured, half-dead Grant, oh whoops, sorry, I meant Steve off at my apartment with no explanation, then disappear,” he didn’t miss the way her eyebrow quirked ever so minutely at his dig about Steve’s name. She thankfully also didn't mention his meltdown on the phone at the cabin. The Winter Soldier didn't panic, he just spoke with a heightened sense of urgency and a dash of high pitchiness when a fellow agent was down… he totally panicked.

"You were all I had." she replied simply.

"I _know_ that. Shit," he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated he couldn't say exactly what was on his mind. "Just, I don't like being lied to."

Natasha nodded and took a sip of hot chocolate, her eyes finding his, narrowing after a second in realisation. "You caught feelings didn't you?"

Bucky spluttered. "No, I'm just pissed about being a half operative, you either trust me or you fucking don't, no in-between."

“Oh, James, you did. Steve… it's complicated. And don't think I don't _want_ to be square with you, but these are not my secrets to tell. I can’t.”

“So why are you here then?” He demanded, pissed off.

“Because I think you could use a friend.”

He huffed, and turned on the TV, not wanting to admit that even though she was infuriating, sneaky, conniving and couldn’t tell the truth in a straight line, he really _did_ need a friend. He missed Steve, wanted to know where he was, what had happened, but figured he wasn’t going to be enlightened anytime soon. He slumped back in the chair, finished, done, sick of fighting about it.

Natasha scooted closer, leaning her knee against Bucky’s for comfort, not seeking any more than that, not intending it to be any _more_ than that, and Bucky the fool, took the comfort. Allowed the small press of their knees to try and stop the rising doubts and fears from welling up.

It was a situation he'd never found himself in before, caring about someone - or as Natasha so eloquently pointed out, 'catching feelings', it was an apt description.

No one knew Bucky had fallen head over heels for Steve, and as hard as it was, he couldn't say anything or act like he had a right to know what had happened. He and Steve never spoke about what would happen _after_ the cabin, or whether Steve was 'out' or if he even wanted anything more from Bucky than what they'd already shared. His mind splintered trying not to think about it, but thinking of nothing else. _Fuck_.

And as much as he loathed to admit it, having Natasha sit stoically beside him, watching cake fails was exactly what he needed.

  
  


Bucky pulled the mask up and secured his goggles, the inside of the quinjet taking on the slight otherworldly tint he liked to work through. Tony had upgraded his suit and weapons cache and although the billionaire drove him nuts, the enhancements and array of sniper rifles and knives he got to choose from, more than made up for the inappropriate slap on his 'rock hard ass' he'd received in his fitting.

He wondered how many sexual harassment lawsuits Tony’d had to fight.

The energy in the back of the quinjet was relatively relaxed, considering the unknown they were embarking on. Bucky watched as Hawkeye tapped a foot to the bass rhythm blasting from his earphones, Natasha was feigning sleep, Thor was playing… Pokemon on a handheld device, face beaming, especially when he roared out he'd captured a Jigglypuff. Bucky was checking his knives and wondering how much a Gameboy cost.

Bruce, Falcon and Tony were up the front, discussing last minute logistics when Bruce called out they were going stealth.

Shit was about to get real.

The facility they were infiltrating was world class, and although they had enough firepower with Tony's suit, Thor's hammer and Bruce's 'other guy' to knock down any wall to get inside, they had to be covert. Having absolutely no idea if Pierce had started experimenting yet, or if there were innocents inside, or even if the Hydra strike team would be there, it was the best plan they had. The intel Tony garnered appeared legitimate, so Bucky wasn’t worried they’d turn up and find nothing but tumbleweeds and dust, but not knowing enemy numbers _was_ concerning.

Clearly there was no way the operation could possibly go wrong. The positive vibes flowing from Bucky were strong (sarcasm adjacent) and maybe that’s why no one came to sit beside him.

Bruce was making three drops across the large compound for the different teams, Bucky paired with Tony, which thrilled him to no end. He wondered if being the newest Avengers member, he'd drawn the short straw and the others were relieved to have someone new to babysit Tony. Judging by Falcon's smug look, Bucky was onto something, although Falcon was always a little lippy around him. Always getting a teasing dig in, borderline rude, but Bucky gave it back just as much, so he couldn’t complain. He actually liked the guy, but wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

Bucky watched where he thought the cloaked quinjet moved across the sky once they’d dropped to the roof, when Tony waltzed up.

"Alright Buck-me-hard, you ready?"

Fed up, Bucky slammed his hand out around Tony's exposed neck, thankful he'd not donned the Ironman mask yet, and yanked him forward. Tony's smirk slowly slid off at the murderous look Bucky gave him.

"Ready as you are, I-rust-in-the-rain-man,"

Tony eyed him a moment before bursting into a wide grin, "you're alright, you know?"

"I know." He replied deadpan, releasing Tony. "Let's fucking go."

"Excellent," Tony's face plates secured in place and they were off into the building. The comradery lasted all of ten minutes, then he heard Tony yell 'squirrel' and he was gone - and didn't come back. Right. So he was on his own then - Bucky more than fine with the outcome.

The halls he traversed were quiet, unusually so, and Bucky tried to figure out if Tony had already swept through, disarming and putting people down. Hugging the wall, Bucky looked around the next corner, evidently Tony _hadn’t_ been through. Or if he had, he was a bag of dicks and left Bucky to deal with the mess.

Four people, two security and two in white lab coats were conversing amiably. Bucky sighed and re-pulled his hair back into a tight bun, readying himself for a confrontation. This is where his issue with the security hub’s location kicked in. Bucky _had_ to pass down that way, past the workers. It was the only route open to him, but he looked around for an alternate path, just in case. Sighting the air vents (which Hawkeye loved so dearly), he wrote them off as too high and too small to utilise. The door across from his position lead directly into a supply closet, and the way he’d just come from, went back to the roof. 

He needed to get past them quickly so Bucky could take down the camera feeds, then wipe and steal the last six months of backup data. That, if anything was why Tony believed they were in the correct compound, all security was local and he couldn’t hack into it, even Jarvis marvelled at the firewalls enshrouding the building. So hence Bucky was here to manually deal with it.

Usually Natasha worked point on tech detail, but she’d been tasked to infiltrate Pierce’s office on the top floor to clone his computer as it too wasn’t connected to the mainframe. They sent her over Bucky because she was more _delicate_ with extracting data. Bucky, if he couldn't get in after three minutes would've ripped the computer out of the wall and just brought it along with him. 

Tony handed him a USB on the quinjet which would do all the leg-work for him, meaning Bucky just had to get into the room to plug it in, _but_ there were people in the way, who he really didn't want to hurt.

Non-lethal was the way to go, so he took a deep breath and grasped a couple of small knives no bigger than his thumb.

Spinning around the corner in a blur, he threw the sharp implements directly at the two cameras, smashing the lenses so the red flashing lights flickered out. He would only have been seen if someone was directly watching the feed, so hopefully he was quick enough. Then he ran forward, the people still oblivious to his presence.

It wasn't until the two lab techs gasped as he rushed them, that the security guards turned, but he was already on them. Using his flesh arm, because the metal one would rip heads clean off if he used force, he clotheslined them, both going down easily. One got straight back up, the other hitting their head on the way down - they stayed down. Three short staccato punches in the face later, the other was slumped on the ground and Bucky turned to the motionless techs. He'd downed the cameras and guards in less than five seconds. 

The wide eyed look of fear on their faces not feigned and Bucky knew the two women, even though part of something potentially horrendous, were only doing their jobs. Who knew what line Hydra fed them when recruited. They could think they were working on free energy for the masses, or they might _actually_ know they were making off-brand supersoldiers. He couldn't take the risk by not neutralising them.

Bucky was not an asshole, well, he was an asshole, but not a _fucking_ asshole, so he stripped them of their phones and herded them into the tight supply closet.

The protests died on their lips when he husked for them to be quiet. Bucky’s voice modulator impressive through Tony's new mask, and he’d wanted to immediately ask if an Optimus Prime voice was an option, but didn’t. The regret was real. And people thought the Winter Soldier wasn't fun.

When he shut and secured the door, he couldn’t help thinking it could be the catalyst for a grand romance. Stuck in a confined space with another person was a secret trope he enjoyed reading about or seeing on TV or movies. It suddenly reminded him of the book Steve had been reading at the cabin and he felt a pang in his gut. His mind _really_ wasn’t on the mission, and it showed.

Five guards and three office workers later, he made it to the security centre. The room was small, barely the size of his apartment, though the sheer amount of computers inside made it feel larger. Screens littered every space, each one showing a different part of the building, inside and out. Bucky thought he caught a glimpse of Tony on one screen, but no one else, as the rest of the team were waiting on his orders before proceeding. Tony didn’t like following plans.

“You done yet? We’re almost in place.” Clint’s voice came through his comm, timing impeccable.

“Almost. Give me thirty seconds.”

“Ha, that’s what he says to all his partners, ends up in disappointing sex really.”

Bucky was going to straight up strangle Tony.

He stalked into the room, taking out the two surprised guards with practised ease. So far, nothing about their infiltration had been hard and honestly it didn’t feel like a maximum security facility where they were doing illegal experiments to create supersoldiers. It felt like it could have been the headquarters for a multi-million dollar juice company.

Bucky found the main drive and slid the USB into a slot, (placing it the wrong way first, before flipping it - why that happened every time, he didn't know). Within a second, it began to deliver the virus Tony had created, which at the same time downloaded all of their feeds from the past six months. He didn’t get how the tech worked, could barely understand his own arm half the time, and was content to be a simple sniper who could fight his way out of any brawl.

“Done,” he announced.

“Oh, that was only twenty seconds, I can give you the name of a good Doctor if you want?” Tony’s smug voice filled his ears.

“Tony.” He gritted out.

“Yes, Quick-draw-McSoldier?”

“Don’t fall asleep any time soon.”

“Was that a threat, did he just threaten me? Natasha!” 

“You deserved it. Now shut-up and follow the damn plan for once.”

Tony grumbled as Bucky pulled the device out and headed for the labs a few floors down where he would meet up with the others once they’d finished their intel gathering. He'd made it a full two floors with no resistance when a buzzing noise filled the hall he was slinking through. It was quiet at first, then got heavier as he rounded the next corner.

“What the hell? Oh fuck.”

“Soldier, report.” Natasha snapped, clearly running somewhere herself if the short bursts of air in his ear was any indication.

Bucky stood stock still in the wide hallway, so close to where he wanted to be, but also so far away. Robots, from what he could tell, hundreds of basketball sized spiky robots hovered in the air, filling one end of the hall. What even was his life, that seeing floating mechanical devices clearly there to harm him, only made him shrug it off for being a Tuesday?

He couldn’t see past them, they were at least ten deep and for the first time in a long time he felt the tug of uncertainty. Uncertain if he could get out of this without serious injury. It would be too much to hope they were peaceful and only wanted to take his food order or connect him to wi-fi.

“Uh, guys, we have issues. I got about a hundred floating robots blocking me from the lab, could use a hammer or a few blasters right about now.”

The comm blew up, all Bucky heard was yelling through it from the others. Seemed he wasn’t the only one to find themselves with a large amount of hostiles. Bizarrely, or cleverly, it appeared they all were hit at the same time.

“Sorry, you’re on your own, have three I-robot style jobs here. Will get to you as soon as I can,” Natasha’s voice went dead as a high pitched squeal took over in his ear and Bucky realised the comms had been scrambled, they now had no contact with each other. Okay then.

"Jesus H. Christ," Bucky breathed towards the floating sea of metal.

Heart racing, he steadied his stance by widening his feet and dropping his hips slightly then watched in trepidation as the robots began to slowly, menacingly make their way to his position. They were not in a rush, which made it better or worse, he didn’t know. He glanced around, trying to find a way out, knowing once they attacked they’d be too quick, but he began to slowly slide backwards anyway, inching towards a door he’d passed earlier. Bucky was certain he could take out a few with his arm and knives, but the sheer number of robots would overwhelm him in seconds. His gun would be useless, used for sniping, plus he’d not have enough bullets. _Shit._

Why did it always have to be damn robots? Robots or aliens, Bucky was fed up with the predictability of it. Where were the sentient trees attacking humans? Though that would be super cool and he wasn't sure he'd be able to hurt them, knowing Groot also didn't help.

He pondered for a second on how the robots worked, whether independent, remote or hive mentality, hoping to find a strategy which could take them all out with no incidents, when one burst forward, coming right at him - testing him. Bucky swung his left arm around in an arc, smashing it into the wall, circuitry spilled everywhere before it dropped motionless to the ground. 

So the metal arm could take them out easily - check.

Three then came at him as he slunk further backwards, another step closer to the door, his only escape, and they all attacked as one. Of course they did. 

The sinister sharp protrusions of different lengths and thicknesses made Bucky realise they didn’t need to have any other gimmicks, like glue guns or electric shocks - they just had to come at you with enough speed to impale you. He unsheathed a large knife and stabbed one, punching another into the wall, and kicking the third one. They all came apart except the knifed one, which spun in a slow circle before landing on the ground, twirling. Well they weren’t the sturdiest contraptions.

So knives and kicking could take them out too - check.

Suddenly a swarm flew forward, and Bucky was well and truly fucked.

Instinctually, Bucky went to duck, metal arm up over his head when a whooshing flew past his ear and something crashed into the first rush of robots. The round shield, a well known blue, white and red came barrelling back out from the decimated robots to be caught by the large man who now stood next to him.

It seemed Captain America had finally joined the fight. Thank God.

“Bout time, Cap,” Bucky rasped. Sparing the quickest glance next to him, feeling the usual zing in his bloodstream at being in close proximity to the stealth suited man. Navy was a good colour on him - pink too probably. What threw him off though, was that Cap was already staring right at him, unblinking, eyes behind the tinted lenses moving across his masked face, familiar like.

“Buck...” The Cap replied softly, something a little off in his voice, something almost strangely intimate. Bucky's stomach erupted.

“- shit, incoming.”

Bucky braced himself, then fell into the fight like second nature, The Cap and he working in perfect sync, and although in the past they'd always moved in compliment, now it felt like they were each an extension of the other. Like they were almost one person. It was surreal and Bucky didn't quite know what to think about it. Excited, gratified and with a heavy dose of confusion - what had changed?

The fight soon became overwhelming. There were at least a hundred robots who, unlike humans, didn’t get tired, nor look for weaknesses. They were relentless.

"There are too many of them,” he yelled to Cap, “we need to make it back to the supply closet.”

Cap, glanced his way quickly while raising the shield, cutting two robots in half, grimacing when some form of fluid spurted out. “Lead on.”

A minute and ten robot corpses later, they barrelled through the door, smashing directly into brooms, mops and a bucket full of paper towels. There was only just enough space for one human to move about, let alone trying to fit in two super sized soldiers. But they managed to shut the door behind them, hearing the robots slamming and sticking into the wood on the other side.

Three seconds into their confinement, Bucky realised how obscenely close they were.

“I’m in a fucking movie.” Bucky half whispered under his breath, body pressed against the entirety of Captain America’s back. Whose damn ass was taut and perfectly placed and Bucky cursed again. He had Steve, adored Steve, but fuck, if there wasn’t something riviting and almost unconscious about wanting The Cap. But Bucky knew he could have all the reactions in the world to him, and he wouldn’t act on them. He was faithful to a fault. Even if he wasn't officially in a relationship (or had any idea where or how his unofficial boyfriend might be).

“A movie?” Cap replied, warmth in his question. Bucky had forgotten about his super hearing for a moment.

“Uh, Terminator.” It was the last thing he'd watched with Steve, who complained the whole time about continuity errors. Although in this case, pressed up against a beefcake of a man, he was thinking more along the lines of a rom-com movie about two people forced into a situation which let their passions out, he wondered if the two lab techs were kissing now. And why did he think about kissing? His brain was a traitorous place to tread.

“Oh,” Cap replied, "good movie, except when Sarah rolls the car and there's clearly no engine in it."

Jesus, he sounded just like Steve, _fuck_ , did he move back? Closer _against_ Bucky? Cap obviously had no sense of spacial niceties, although he was a hero and probably never heard complaints about it before. Bucky wasn’t complaining, but he _was_ trying very hard not to be affected. The Cap moved even further into his space, practically grinding on him - for Christs’ sake, Bucky was only human.

“Hey, move your shield, it’s digging into me.”

This wasn’t as sexy as it looked in the movies - _not_ that he should be thinking about sexy with anyone right now. He heard the thump as more robots hit the door. They needed a plan, but for some reason Bucky’s brain wasn’t working.

“That’s not my shield.” Cap responded as he twisted around and suddenly it was much sexier. “It’s my arm."

“Oh," then Cap was facing him, the top half of his head hidden behind the mask, eyes barely discernible under the tinted covers, they were still very blue from what Bucky could tell. And suddenly he was assaulted with a flashback of Steve’s big blue eyes just as Cap’s gaze flicked down to Bucky’s mask, like he was trying to see through it - to his lips.

“We have to get out of here and meet the others at the lab.” Bucky blurted, heart racing too fast and needing to step back from this overwhelming moment. Cap had never looked at him like that before, and it was frying his brain. Why would he do this now, now that he’d found Steve? Murphy’s law.

Bucky looked up above their heads, seeing a large vent cover. Thank you Clint, he silently thought, he always looked up because of that man. “Boost me, I’ll see if we can fit - we only need to get to the next room. Just far away enough to restock and try a full frontal assault again.”

Cap nodded, eyes still glued to Bucky’s. He coughed lightly and Cap startled.

“Right, sure.”

Next minute Bucky was on Cap's shoulders, head through the hole in the roof, it would do, tight, but a way out. They clambered up and made it three rooms over, before jumping down onto someones’ desk, a bobblehead of Batman nodding at them as they landed heavily.

“Ready?” Bucky asked as he reached for the door handle. A huge hand came down on his shoulder, fingers squeezing tightly, stopping Bucky in his tracks. Awareness zipped down his spine and he barely held in a shiver.

“It’s good to see you, Buck.” Cap said, making Bucky turn with the knowledge his eyebrows were sitting somewhere halfway back on his head.

“Err, you too… Cap. Should we…” he gestured to the door and the inevitable hall full of robots on the other side. Yup, being in a parallel universe was sounding about right.

The hand stayed on his shoulder, and Bucky felt the grip drag him in before he was released, unsure whether he had actually felt the movement or if it was in his mind. Did The Cap almost hug him? Bucky took a second to _really_ look at him, honestly, he didn’t seem great. He appeared tired, shoulders slumped a little and sweat beaded around his mask. He looked like he’d just fought a ten month war and was back on the battlefield for another ten with only three minutes to grab a burger in between. But he was still captivating though.

“Hey, are you okay?” Bucky asked as the recently removed hand left a cold sensation behind.

Cap gave him the smallest smile, pleased by Bucky's words and Bucky was sure he’d never seen The Cap smile like that at him before, but it felt natural, like he’d been on the receiving end of it a million times before.

“I’m fine Buck, just had a rough few days.”

“Nat said you were on a mission?”

“Something like that,” he replied, watching Bucky’s face carefully, eyes dragging over every inch, before they lowered to do a sweep of his body. Heat welled up in him unbidden, how the hell did he get a reaction like that from a look? It was the look a lover would give, intimate and wanton. Bucky was certain he shouldn’t be on the receiving end of it, Cap must be feeling really off. “We’d better go.”

Cap snapped out of his trance, blush filling his cheeks, and Bucky opened the door trying not to place the image of how gorgeous he was when embarrassed in his memory vault.

They raced into the hall, expecting to be attacked immediately but had five seconds breathing room before smashing their way through the remaining robots to the lab. A few cuts, bruises and a lot of oil stains across both of them later, they arrived. The lab turned out to be nothing more than a room full of cubicles and computers.

“What the fuck?” Bucky breathed, just as his comm lit up. They were back online.

“Where are you Soldier? Get back to the quinjet. This isn’t the right place, we were intentionally misled - Tony found a lead on another facility and has gone ahead - we need to get there pronto.”

“Cap and I will be there in a minute.”

“Cap?” Natasha’s surprise palpable. He motioned to Cap about an earpiece, but he shook his head, he wasn’t wearing one. “Yep, saved my bacon, we’ll be up soon.”

The snort of irritation Nat let out highly unusual and the muttered ‘fucking hero complex’ even more so. He chuckled, and at The Cap's raised brow he shrugged.

“Nat, she’s funny.”

The look he received was one of patent disbelief, maybe The Cap didn’t get her sense of humour because it was usually aimed at him and his old man proclivities.

Ten minutes later they were in the back of the quinjet getting the rundown from Falcon and Nat, _after_ Nat had pulled The Cap aside for a string of terse unheard words. It was amusing watching him be told off. In the end they had about half an hour until they arrived at the next location. Tony had managed to find a blip in one of the systems which led him to another warehouse district and the Hydra strike team was there. Tony was waiting for them to arrive (under Nat's strict instructions) before starting the second assault - at least they were warmed up. 

Bucky pulled off his mask and goggles to suck down two bottles of water Thor had thrown his way, and as he drained the last drop, he felt eyes on him. The Cap was staring. Bucky blinked - he continued to stare. What the hell? He noticed Cap tilt his head, and continue to look directly at Bucky, unashamedly. It became almost uncomfortable, especially when everyone else walked away to rest and the two of them were standing in the back corner, alone.

“Er, do I have something on my face?”

Cap took an unusually shaky breath in, “No. I just missed you, is all."

Frowning, Bucky could not figure out the words in connection to him and The Cap. Sure, okay, he missed him too, it had been like two weeks since they last teamed up, but they'd gone longer without seeing each other in the past. This parallel universe was really kicking his butt.

It then dawned on him the weirdness between them was probably due to the fact The Cap had never seen him without his face mask. Bucky was essentially out and proud - in more ways than one. 

“Oh sorry, um, the others saw my face a few days ago, by mistake. But it’s cool now, so I didn't see a reason to keep the mask on when alone with the team.”

He fell silent and The Cap continued to watch him closely, _jesus_ , he could feel the unseen current running between the two of them. What on earth was going on, did Cap not like what he saw?

“Surprise… I'm just ordinary... no metal nose or anything to compliment the arm,” Bucky joked, and it fell flat because Cap just carried on gazing at him, a crooked expression on his face.

“No, not ordinary. Not in the slightest.” he finally breathed.

Bucky inhaled sharply, clearly mishearing the longing in Cap’s voice. He noticed The Cap’s fingers twitch as they lifted to his mask before averting to scratch at the back of his head. Bucky held his breath, at first thinking he was about to unveil himself in return, but nope, Cap just had an itchy head.

“Would you…” Cap started, then straightened his shoulders, ”Would you like to get a drink some time?”

Bucky choked, that was not what he expected, then it sunk in - what? Was The Cap asking him out for a drink? Just before an operation? Like on a date? There was _no_ doubt now, he was in a parallel universe or alternate dimension.

“Uh…” He couldn’t get anything else out except the strangled noise. It was the most ridiculous situation, he’d been alone (happily) for years, never needing or having a connection with anyone and in the space of the last year, he’d met a seemingly uninterested Cap and then fallen for Steve and suddenly The Cap took notice of him. Why now? What had changed? One thing was for certain though, The Cap had rotten timing.

“Uh, yes or, uh no?” Cap asked with a smirk, which shouldn't be as cute as it was.

“I uh... actually, you know what? I think I'm seeing someone.”

“You think?” The Cap suddenly sounded strained around the edges.

Bucky didn’t answer straight away, trying to figure out how to phrase what was in his head, which was impossible, it was a mess in there. He had to just blurt out the truth in the end.

“Hell, I don't know, I just… I met someone recently, he knocked my proverbial socks off. No offence, because your… well, you… but there's something awful special about Stevie.”

Caps entire demeanour shifted, a fiercely proud look framed his face, which was odd considering Bucky had just told him no, but then Cap looked down at his own body and a frown formed. Quirking a brow, Bucky watched as expressions warred across Cap’s face, everything from a goofy grin (which was adorable) to realisation, followed by uncertainty. It was oddly mesmerising to watch him figure out something, something Bucky was at a loss to understand. Eventually his massive shoulders slumped and if Bucky didn't know better, he would say he was almost crushed by Bucky's words, his kind rejection.

“And if this… Steve wasn't around?”

Bucky's half smile was small, “well, I'm not one to play games and what if's, and he _is_ around. Well I'm hoping so, which means I won't answer. Please understand, it's not you at all, just that I'm spoken for."

If anything The Cap radiated pure delight at his response, then to Bucky’s utter shock he lifted a hand up, grasping the back of his mask, ready to rip it off. He held his breath, he’d just shot Cap down for a date, but Bucky’s traitorous heart still wanted to know, to see what he could’ve had - potentially. He was a glutton for punishment.

“Look, Buck I need to tell -”

“- we’re here. Lock and load it boys, we have a facility to take down.” Natasha’s voice boomed, as the back of the quinjet began to open and the others took their positions.

“Oh, for fucks sake. The universe is definitely mocking me. I just want to say _one_ damn thing,” The Cap threw his hands in the air then looked directly at Bucky. Cap's voice startling Bucky a little, it was different from his usual calm cadence. It was direct and annoyed, and sounded so much like-

“-Cap,” Natasha warned, “do you really want to do this now?”

“Yes.” He yelled back and Bucky was so confused, not understanding what was happening as the other Avengers began to jump out the quinjet. Cap held up a hand to stop Bucky following them.

Then Cap ripped the mask off and Bucky was blinded. The face staring back at him was familiar in its unfamiliarity. The blonde hair, messy from sweat, but Bucky had run his fingers through it enough times to know it intimately, the slightly crooked nose which he'd kissed too many times and the heartbreakingly blue eyes in a shade he’d recognise anywhere.

“Steve?” He whispered, gobsmacked. Every single thing he thought to be true was turned on its end. The Cap, no, fucking _Steve -_ who'd started as Grant - nodded shyly.

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me.”

“You have to go," Natasha snarled. "Idiots."

“One minute,” Steve shouted back as he took a step closer, ignoring Nat's terrifying growl. Bucky glanced her way, seeing her frustration born from fondness more so than true anger.

When his gaze slid back to The Cap though, to _Steve_ , the intensity shining from his overly large eyes paralysed Bucky completely, his feet unable to move - brain turning to mush. He couldn’t figure out which way was up or sideways, he was tumbling down a rabbit hole. 

One thing his thoughts could land on though, was that Steve was okay, he was alive, he was…

“I thought you were smaller,” he finally settled on. 

Steve beamed.

And Bucky punched him square on his annoyingly perfect jaw - _hard_.

Ignoring Natasha's astonished laugh, he slammed his mask over his face and jumped from the jet, leaving a stunned Steve holding his face behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!! Bucky knows! 
> 
> Really hope you all enjoyed the chapter - and thanks again for sticking with me :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, it’s happening… well - sort of...

Bucky was fluctuating between absolute fucking fury and being completely flabbergasted. He'd not meant to strike Steve… Cap, Grant whoever the hell he'd just hit. He wasn't sure if the instinctive motion was borne out of confusion or anger from the sudden and irrefutable proof before him that he'd been lied to (even from omission) by someone he cared for, or if he was fucking elated that the two people he was drawn to - were one and the same. 

How was it even possible, physically, metaphysically, astrophysically? It didn't make sense on any plane of existence and Bucky had fought lizard people from outer space whose blood, when spilled, made you high as a kite. It was one of the best and weirdest missions he'd been on. Thor had been in his element.

But how, with no alien interference was his little Stevie the same person as the beefcake Captain America? His head already hurt trying to work it out, and it had only been two minutes.

Oh Jesus Christ, Captain America had eaten him out over a table… fucked him to within an inch of his life and Bucky had reciprocated - enthusiastically.

Kill him now.

On the heels of that thought, he suddenly pictured Cap in his current form going to town on his ass and he just about broke his ankle when he landed on the ground from inattention. Because,  _ whoa _ that pushed a big button (the biggest), as he'd be able to hold Bucky down and not let him move. At all.

_ Fuck _ \- and if that wasn't the goddamn icing on a cake-smash of a day he didn't know what was.

Being attracted to Steve when he was large or small wasn’t the issue, because, jeez, he was - one hundred percent. He just had to wrap his head around the fact they were the exact same person. Everything he’d sorted out in his head regarding what he wanted,  _ who _ he’d wanted, had been flung out into the ether and he needed a little time to consolidate everything which he’d just learnt. But he really didn’t expect to get that time to - not yet anyway. Because Steve was a dramatic princess who’d told him three seconds before jumping out of a plane.

Bucky slammed his fist into a Hydra assault team member who'd ran at him like a crazy person. He struck out at the next Hydra goon, then the next, then the one after that. 

Because of the wonderful luck the universe had bestowed on Bucky, when he fled the quinjet he'd landed right below, directly into a nest of Hydra operatives. 

His day was  _ fantastic _ , thank you very much.

He was a blur of movement, using every trick in his book of parkour and hand to hand combat to take down assailants from both sides and by the time a large git in a muted star spangled uniform dropped in beside him, it was done.

Steve looked at the twenty bodies littered about, some groaning, some out of it, but none standing, then grimaced in apology at Bucky, who in turn saluted him insolently, then ran for the warehouse door. 

Unfortunately it only took Steve two seconds to catch up with him, stupid super serum speed.

Bucky desperately needed to use up some of the nervous energy that vibrated under his skin, he was itching for another fist fight or sex, and  _ that _ was not on the cards for a myriad of reasons. He glanced at Steve, large frame running beside him all sinew and muscles rippling, face masked in concentration as he most likely thought about the upcoming fight. Bucky needed that level of concentration and was slightly miffed that Steve was being so… Captain America about it all.

Christ, he had a mission to complete - a Hydra cell to take down, he couldn't think about Steve and their clusterfuck of a... thing. Not right now anyway - the trick was to get his brain on board. It seemed it wasn’t taking requests at that moment though. He was going to die of not surprise.

“Nat, you read me?” He asked into the comm.

A grunt his only reply and he could hear fighting through his ear, Steve looked at him, also hearing the same thing and without words, they sped up. And that was the thing, they worked well together, above expectation, in sync completely - but Bucky was so damn off kilter about their personal lives that he was concerned he’d be too distracted to help the team.

“On our way, hold up just a little longer,” Bucky yelled back.

“Copy that, hurry. They have -” the sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated through his ears and he winced, knowing whoever was fighting Natasha just received her patent move of jumping up, wrapping her legs around their neck and taking them down, “- supersoldiers.”

“Fuck, the son of a bitch really did it.” Bucky breathed, knowing the comm wouldn’t pick it up, but the man next to him did.

“Buck, this is horrifying, we need all the information we can on these  _ soldiers _ ,” Steve spat the word and Bucky immediately felt chagrined, his annoyance ebbing slightly. He couldn’t imagine how Steve would be feeling, considering it was  _ his _ blood which created them.

“We will. We won’t let them leave the facility, not until we know more.”

Steve nodded, face still stony and contemplating what they were about to find when they reached the others. Bucky wasn’t going to lie, he was curious as to what these soldiers would be like. Another exact replica of Steve or a lesser version, or more terrifying - superior?

They raced around a sharp corner, only for Bucky to skid to a stop then stumble forward. Literally stumble. Because a huge idiot fell into him, not seeing what was before them.

"Buck?" Steve questioned, breath tickling his neck.

Bucky didn't respond, moving away from Steve's heat and motioned ahead, it was the same damn hovering robots they’d fought at the other facility. Thankfully less of them, but it was still an annoyance.

“Fucking hell,” Bucky hissed. “I  _ hate _ robots.”

He ignored the chuckle from beside him, which made his insides jumble. Stupid Steve with his stupid sexy deep voice… which came from his stupid deep throat and well  _ of course,  _ deep throat… now Bucky was distracted.

A robot began to spin then flew right at his head and suddenly Bucky’s brain was back online. It took the two of them less than a minute to obliterate the robots, knowing exactly how to strike for maximum damage and Bucky started to think that Dr Doom was a bit shit at making sentinels.

"Buck, we need to talk about -" 

"- now’s  _ not _ really the time." He snapped and saw Steve's jaw click shut, he was barely holding back words but to Bucky's surprise stayed silent. But, it really  _ wasn't _ the time, and not because they were mid-mission with no idea what was around the next corner, but more so that he couldn’t figure out  _ what _ to say,  _ how _ to feel about it. Not in the two seconds he’d known about Steve and, well  _ Steve _ . Fuck, it might take weeks - he was supremely pissed off amongst other undefinable emotions, which he was not about to poke with a stick, as he was certain his feelings about this were like a hibernating bear and to wake them right then wouldn’t be advisable.

So he started to run, wiping residual oil secretions from the robots off his metal hand onto his pants. He really did hate robots. Passionately.

When they came to the cavernous warehouse where the rest of the Avengers were fighting, Bucky stopped at the edge of the platform for a second - taking in the sheer audacity of Hydra and their evil lair. The warehouse was open and huge, the sunken floor half filled with tanks, cars, bikes and small planes. One section to the far right was under a large canopy of plastic and Bucky just  _ knew _ it was a laboratory, it had that off feel about it. 

Robots (surprise, surprise) and Hydra strike members fought the Avengers, Hulk threw armored vehicles like they were pillows, Ironman blasted robots that kept coming and Thor’s hammer damaged everything in its path. He also saw Falcon and the Black Widow on the sidelines fighting together as arrows blasted down from the rafters. But they were still struggling, because not only were they fighting against a huge amount of hostiles, there were about twenty people,  _ supersoldiers _ barrelling through everyone, not stopping and the blood drained out of Bucky’s face. Now he’d seen them in the flesh, how the hell were they supposed to beat twenty Captain America knock-offs? 

Because they were  _ damn _ impressive.

He glanced at Steve whose face was unreadable.

“I’m making my way to the lab, see if there is anything I can find about the supersoldiers.” Bucky said into the comm.

“Confirmed, good luck.” Falcon replied, no hint of his usual smart assery.

Bucky went to jump down into the fray but Steve gripped him tighter,  _ oh _ , he’d not even noticed Steve had grabbed his arm in the first place. Hell, he really was a perceptive stealthy spy with instincts like a goddamn dog rolling over for a belly pat.

“Be careful, don't be reckless.” Steve caught his eye and Bucky felt a pang at not being able to actually see the bright blue. He had no idea how this operation would end.

“I never am. That’s your M.O.” Bucky said with a smirk and before Steve could say anything else, because he just  _ knew _ Steve wanted the last word he fled. 

Bucky made it to the floor, smashing into people as he barrelled through, intent on making it to the labs in the quickest time possible. He heard everyone through the comms fighting for their lives and glanced over his shoulder as a bunch of robots flew out in all directions in front of him, shield tearing them in half to see Steve join the fight in earnest.

“Path is clear Buck, go.” Steve yelled and he didn’t take a second to think about it and ran as fast as he could, jumping over bikes, sliding across car bonnets, ducking and weaving around robots and punching out at Hydra goons where he could. His metal arm making short work of everything he passed by, and what it couldn’t do, his knives took care of. It was carnage on the main floor.

A rush of heat nearby had him change directions at the last minute to see Ironman blasting through a wave of flying robots as big as cars. What had they stumbled into? It was almost ludicrous.

Electricity boomed and Bucky saw in his peripheral Thor fighting some of the supersoldiers, so far, they didn’t appear damaged at all. He really needed to find something they could use against them. The way to the lab though was covered in hostiles, not more than Bucky could manage, but they were on a tight timeframe or run the risk of being overwhelmed.

“Widow,” he called.

“Soldier?”

“Assistance needed, can you swing by the lab.”

“Three minutes. Hawkeye, could use some of those exploding arrows aimed at the lab in four minutes.”

“Confirm.” Bucky replied.

“Anything for you snookums.”

“What?” Bucky laughed, unprepared for hearing that.

“Oh shit - we aren’t on private comms, crapola - Widow - I’m sorry… I -”

Hawkeyes comm went suspiciously dead, Bucky cackled again, glad to have a reprieve from the turmoil in his mind about the fight before him, and what was waiting for him afterwards.

When he was almost a hairbreadth away from the plastic sheeting and the fight against the line of enemies, one large body stepped directly in his path. Bucky managed to stop his forward momentum.

“You,” Bucky breathed, recognising Brock Rumlow instantly.

“Winter Soldier,” he replied, dark eyes narrowing before immediately dropping into a fighting stance.

Well - Bucky was looking for a fight, and this one would just about do the trick. Brock struck first, Bucky deflecting it with ease, and they fell into a cat and mouse game for a minute, before Brock began to fight in earnest and he was, well, he was good - really good. Not classically trained, more of a brawler, but Bucky reasoned, he'd not been in the army most of his life to not know how to take down boys who brawled. So Bucky countered every attack and felt Brock’s frustration levels rise with each block. He was enjoying himself immensely - he'd needed the physical activity.

“Why would you betray SHIELD like this?” Bucky snarled.

Brock smirked and struck out with his leg, sweeping Bucky off his feet, shit - he had to pay attention. He took a quick glance around and saw the destruction and mayhem unfolding on the main warehouse floor. He also saw Natasha climbing from above to jump down and start to fight the other Hydra strike members in front of the lab. He had to get up - flipping from his back to his feet in a second. 

“SHIELD were antiquated, they refused to look to the future, to be bigger, to be better. To make  _ me _ better.”

“Sounds like they had scruples. Not everyone is power hungry, and not everyone is cut out to be a supersoldier.”

“It was my  _ right! _ ” Brock screamed, spittle released from his lips, and it was then that Bucky realised Brock was slightly mad and wouldn’t see reason, or get any real intel they could use. He was too far gone on the fact he wasn’t made into a supersoldier. 

Reassessing his fighting style and seeing that Natasha required backup, he decided to play dirty, getting close enough to kick out a kneecap and slamming a fist into his kidney. As he released Brock who staggered on his feet looking dazed, Bucky jumped up, and with a sweeping kick which would make Chuck Norris weep - kicked Brock in the head. He fell to the ground, out.  _ Jesus _ , he was a piece of work.

Arrows blasted around them as he jumped in and fought with Natasha, taking down every last operative and robot within minutes. It was a job well done and he was pleased to note that he didn’t  _ only _ work well with Captain America.

They slammed through the plastic sheeting to the lab not knowing what to expect, but nothing at all - was not it.

“Are you kidding?” Bucky said as they looked around at the empty area. Empty of people at any rate. 

Parodies of hospital beds and smashed electronics littered the room, it looked like -

“- this is where the soldiers were made, shit, I think they’ve only been awake for about an hour.” Natsha stated as she held up a ripped IV unit, blood still dripping from it.

“Incredible,” Bucky started then at the sharp look from Nat, clarified, “and of course absolutely horrendous.”

“Find anything?” Steve’s voice came through the comm and Bucky had somehow forgotten how his deep warble had a direct line to his dick. How did he not realise Steve and Cap had the same low cadence? It was so damn obvious now.

“Still looking.” Nat replied and raised an eyebrow at Bucky as he wasn’t searching, he was just listening. He was better than this. Fucking Steve dropping a bombshell like that right before a mission - he was an idiot and Bucky an even bigger one for not being able to compartmentalise for a couple of hours.

Bucky  _ really _ needed to find a scientist or something they could use. Get himself back on mission.

But a quick scope of the broken equipment did no more than confirm they were screwed.

“Fuck,” he yelled and slammed his left fist into a bed frame, which folded immediately under the stress. A whimper came from behind it and he ripped the tangled mess of metal away to find a man in a lab coat cowering behind it. Things were looking up.

He pulled them out, uncaring as he did that the man was clearly terrified and that Bucky probably had murder written all over him. It could only work in his favour when interrogating - then Natasha strode up, full Black Widow persona in place. The man trembled uncontrollably in his grip. Huh, he didn’t get  _ that _ reaction.

“I’m only going to ask you once,” she began, as Bucky’s grip tightened on the man’s forearm, and Nat leaned in menacingly with a soft smile. Even Bucky was unnerved. “Where is your research?” 

He didn’t even hesitate and pointed towards a terminal, one which had been smashed beyond all recognition and Bucky cursed. Shaking the man slightly he pulled him around so he was facing Bucky in all of his masked glory, and knew he cut a sinister facade.

“How do we stop them?” he growled.

The man whimpered, shutting his eyes and Bucky shook him again, “you… you - can’t. Not yet anyway...”

“What do you mean? Everyone can be stopped somehow.”

“Not these ones, not straight away.” He looked haunted and a little unhinged, but Bucky really didnt care, this idiot was helping to make fucking supersoldiers for the enemy after all.

Suddenly Natasha was in the scientists face, leaning to whisper something which Bucky missed directly into his ear, and suddenly he was babbling about a device which could potentially reverse the effects but it had only been tested successfully once. Natsha’s face went white, all colour drained from it. Then she punched the man, and he slumped in Bucky’s arms.

“Bit of warning next time,” he exclaimed and dumped the man on the ground, concerned at Natashas rapid change in demeanor.

She tapped the comm, “Cap - it’s here. Fuck. Be careful. Keep an eye out - remain vigilant.”

Steve’s voice filled his ear, “we have to find -”

“- I know.”

“What?” Bucky asked Natasha.

“We have to find a gun.”

“You need to be a little more specific, I’ve seen lots of guns so far.”

He heard an annoyed huff through the comms and didn’t realise Steve was still listening.

“It’s the gun I was shot with, that made the serum regress and lie dormant, and made me…” he went silent for a second, the sound of fighting filtered through, then a deep shaken breath filled Bucky’s ear. “...Grant.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky breathed.

“Oh fuck is right, because if you happen to be human and hit with it...” Natasha started then shivered in revulsion and horror.

Bucky didn’t need her to finish, he got the picture.

“Find it.” The order this time from Captain America was one you couldn’t ignore. The ‘please’ tacked on the end was all Steve, and Bucky would do anything in his power to find the weapon for him.

Natasha and he only debated for about a minute before Bucky ran out of the room and left her behind. She'd wanted to be the one to hunt down and find the gun, but Bucky argued they needed as much information on the supersoldiers as possible and she was better at tech than him, and if anyone could find a terminal that worked or repair the damaged one enough to boot it up again, it was Nat.

“Cap, you there?” He yelled as he ran down a long hallway, looking in each door as he did. So far nothing appeared remotely like a lab or a weapons cache, plus he had no idea what kind of gun he was even looking for. Was it the size of an 8mm, or a grenade launcher? Was it black, or bright pink? Would he find it before the soldiers tore Steve and the others apart? That didn’t bear thinking about.

“I’m here, Buck, this is a secure line.”

Bucky swallowed down a multitude of questions he wanted to throw at Steve, especially knowing it was just the two of them on comms, but a small modicum of common sense confirmed it wasn't the time. Steve was clearly fighting a mass of bodies from the sound of it; as Bucky tore through another room which looked promising but only held bits and pieces of tech.

“What am I looking for, Pal?” he asked as he threw a piece of plastic shielding to one side. There was nothing there.

“A raygun,” Steve bit out while grunting, and although Bucky knew he was fighting for his life, it  _ really _ didn’t sound like it.

Also raygun didn’t give him shit to work with, “a raygun - like Marvin the Martian?”

“I don't get that reference,” Steve said after a second, then growled at somebody to 'stay down'.

Suddenly Bucky forgot his abject anger in the face that Steve hadn’t been schooled in the way of Warner Bros' cartoons since he’d been unfrozen and blurted without thought, "we are watching that pronto. No excuses.”

The surprised yet breathless, “yes please, I'd love that,” from Steve, made Bucky realise what he’d just uttered, and damn it, he’d not meant to say that - but it was so natural. And yes, he did want to show Steve the marvels of cartoons, comics and everything in between, but he also still needed to figure out where they were in this… relationship - if that’s even what it was.

“What I meant was, is it alien tech? Does it look like our guns or something different?”

“Shit, hang on.” Bucky heard a loud bang after Steve's words and the entire facility shook, he kept checking rooms still finding nothing and frustration welled. Everyone was fighting for their lives and he was fucking running around on a wild goose chase, the gun might not even be here. Even  _ if _ he knew what it looked like. Today was a damn disaster. 

“Thank fuck,” Steve breathed. “Fury’s here and brought the Cavalry.”

“Melinda May?”

“And the others. Christ, the...” another loud bang came through the comms, but no earth shattering rumble followed. “The gun was about the size of a pump-action shotgun, black with a big yellow bubble thing the size of an orange on the end - that’s all I recall.” 

The grunts and fighting which came through the ear piece as Bucky scrambled to the next vacant room worried him. Although backup had arrived, Steve was still in the thick of it, alone. Bucky had to hurry.

“Copy that,” he replied, stomach erupting in fear at what was happening in the main warehouse. He couldn't help tack on a less clinical, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“Promise, since I’m fairly sure you took most of the stupid with you. Be safe.”

The comm went quiet and Bucky chuckled; Steve was such a little shit, scratch that, such a  _ big _ shit. He’d also better be fine and not get hurt because Bucky was still angry at him and he demanded to have his say, to get his explanation.

Frustration hit when another room turned into nothing but office space and he threw his fist into a wall. It was at that point he noticed a little plaque with an arrow which read ‘test lab 3’ and why the hell not, he didn’t have any other leads. Each crossroads in the hall system had plaques, so it appeared for all the warehouse was an evil lair, the people who worked there required signs to find different departments. He felt annoyed he’d not checked them sooner.

Test lab 3 and 5 didn’t pan out, but at test lab 7 he hit the jackpot. But it wasn’t what he expected, not at all. 

It was full of electronics and non traditional guns of different shapes and sizes all made of an array of different materials. He half wished he had more time to investigate. Something caught his eye and without thought, Bucky slipped a small cool looking plastic red pistol into a loop on his belt and looked around for the raygun, hoping against hope he wasn’t too late or completely in the wrong place. And also that there would be a big neon sign above it, flashing the words 'raygun here'.

As he investigated further into the large space, he deduced that the room was where the robots were also designed and assembled in small batches. Robot shells and parts littered the back tables, some half made, some barely even started. He glanced up and saw schematics showing on a large screen, they were definitely Doombot design, but just like the supersoldiers, appeared off-brand and stolen. What the fuck was Pierce playing at here?

Bucky was making his way further into the room when a door at the back flung open, a body barged in from a secondary lab attached to the one he was in. Hydras’ lair was a damn rabbit warren, he’d not even seen that door yet. But what startled Bucky further was Brock Rumlow standing there, gun in hand - and from the looks of it - it was  _ the  _ gun. He should have kicked him harder,  _ oh well _ , live and learn.

“Fuck.” Brock drawled, just as shocked to see Bucky.

“Yep, fuck sounds about right.” Bucky replied with a menacing gleam, “how about you pass that baby over?”

Brock laughed hollow, and Bucky noticed the trail of blood running from his ear, fairly certain his kick caused it. Whoops. 

Hefting the gun up in his arms further, Brock leered, “I don’t think so.”

Not really having time for the posturing he was certain Brock lived for, Bucky relaxed his shoulders and sighed, “what do you plan to do, Brock?”

He seemed surprised that the Winter Soldier knew his name and it was all the distraction he needed. Using that spare second, Bucky raced forward, throwing his metal arm directly at Brock’s stomach, aiming to incapacitate him. What he didn’t expect was for Brock’s reaction time to be so instinctual. Sensing the blow, he threw the gun up in front of him, and as Bucky’s hand came smashing down, it hit the gun with the full brunt of his fist, his metal fist. The fist which completely punched a hole through it, ruining it, destroying it - making it completely useless.

Adrenaline and horror flew through Bucky as their one chance to overcome the soldiers disappeared,  _ and _ by his hand. He bellowed in frustration and swung his right fist up in a perfect uppercut, catching Brock’s jaw with a crack. He went down for the second time. 

Resting his hands on his knees, Bucky sucked in sharp breaths trying not to hyperventilate in anguish, he’d fucked up, he’d destroyed the one shot they had. Oh Christ.

“Soldier.” Natasha's voice came through the comm, “report.”

“Fuck - it’s ruined, I had the raygun, it’s gone - I smashed it.”

There was a heartbeat of silence on the comm, “good.”

“Good? Are you goddamned kidding me?”

“It’s for the best, really it is. Look, Daisy is here and has found something in their system which could help. Is there anything else where you are which could be useful to us?”

Daisy would explain all the rumbling then, and thankful backup was there, Bucky ran to the room Brock came from and saw the parts for what might have been more rayguns but nothing had made it to construction - he hoped. “We have robot schematics, they are Doombot by design, but not built by Doom which is why they are easy to take down and don’t act quite right. Guns, blueprints just a whole lot of fucking stuff Pierce was putting the money up for.”

“Grab what you think is important, Daisy is getting most things off the mainframe here, then blow it to smithereens.”

Bucky finally grinned, then looked over at the unconsicous figure on the ground,  _ fuck _ \- did he leave Brock here? 

His humanity won over and Bucky placed him near the door while he rummaged around the gun cases until he found explosives.

He shoved a bunch of plans and a few robot parts into a satchel he’d found hanging on the back of a chair, taking out the My Little Pony lunchbox, but pocketing the muesli bar he’d found. Then he set the explosives up.

“Keep clear of the left side of the warehouse - explosion imminent.” Bucky opened the comm and yelled.

He grabbed Brock over his shoulder, and ran from the room. He had twenty seconds to get as far away as possible.

The explosion rocked the very foundations they stood on, the roof listing sideways, and Bucky thought he was a goner, but it didn’t fall and he kept running. 

“Soldier, report.”

“I’m good. What did you get from the terminal? About the supersoldiers?” He clarified, needing to know that he didn’t just screw them all over by destroying the raygun.

“So far all the testing indicates the supersoldier serum only lasts a few hours, but the aftereffects are horrendous. These people had no idea what they were signing up for. But Cap is going to try and contain them, and Buck - it’s not going so well out here.”

Bucky didn’t think - he dumped Brock and ran as fast as he could, legs pumping, lungs bursting from his chest, he had to make it back, help everyone - help Steve.

The fight was still in full force when he returned and if possible the entire warehouse was in even more of a shambles. Bucky wondered if the Hulk was just having fun now as another truck flew past into a group of robots.

All the human Hydra operatives had been taken care of, tied up in varying degrees of dishevelment, and he looked around desperately to find Steve. He caught sight of a blur in motion, shield crashing into supersoldiers and robots alike, before he took off towards the edge of the room, yelling back at Tony.

Bucky then realised his comm wasn't on, tapping to activate it, he hoped to hear what was happening. A robot ambushed him and he fell back into the fight with ease, all while glancing over to see what Steve was up to and if he needed help.

The supersoldiers seemed to be following him and those who weren’t were being shepherded by Ironman and Thor. If he were being honest, the soldiers were starting to look worse for wear, skin sallow and reaction times just not quite right. But they were still strong, as one threw Thor across the room proved. And wasn’t that a sight.

He looked over and caught May’s eye and they nodded curtly to the other. The backup from loyal members of SHIELD was well appreciated. He also loved May's resting 'I'm going to tear you apart' bitch face. If he didn't wear a mask all the time he thought his might give her a run for her money.

“You ready Capsicumble?” Ironman’s voice filtered through.

Bucky spared a glance across the cavernous room and saw Steve running through a large metal door which was off the main floor, the soldiers barrelling in after him and instinctually Bucky started to run towards where they’d disappeared. What the hell was Steve thinking - there was no way he could fight properly in such a confined space?

“Done, shut the door Tony.”

What the fuck?

Then Bucky watched as Tony slammed the door and blasted it shut with heat. Bucky wasn’t even halfway across the floor by this point, fear and uncertainty on what the plan was rode him, adrenaline pumping his legs faster.

Then the sealed room exploded, the door ripping off its hinges as smoke and debris flew out and Bucky fell to the ground from the force of it.

And suddenly Bucky didn’t care about Steve omitting the truth about being Captain America, if he were honest, he got it, really did, he wouldn’t have told Steve he was the Winter Soldier  _ either _ but the little shit had already figured it out. Who was he to be so angry at secrets?

Steve - Steve was in the room when it exploded. What the hell - how was that a plan?

Had the imbecile taken into account the fact he'd been recently compromised by a damn raygun, that his generic makeup might not be up to scratch, that he could be seriously injured? Probably not, because why? Because Captain America, that's why.

Bucky  _ knew _ if Cap was at full strength he'd be fine, but he didn't know that, and neither did fucking Steve.

The damn fool idiot, always having to play the sacrificing hero. 

“Got em.” Steve’s gravely voice crackled over the comm, and Bucky (now he knew Steve was fine) had officially had enough and growled in pure anger.

So wrapped up in seeing everything through a sheen of red, he didn't notice one of the large car sized robots, until it stomped up in front of Bucky. He looked up and up at it, pissed off to the nth degree. He was done with today, one hundred percent done.

Without thinking he grabbed the small red gun from his belt, aimed and fired - knowing it wouldn’t do anything, but needing to shoot something in frustration.

The robot immediately went into meltdown, the bullet was not a bullet at all, but some form of electrical charge and Bucky felt something drop to the ground next to him, seeing another robot, who'd been sneaking up on him, now on the floor twitching as electric currents left it. 

“Nice work, Bucky - you fucking genius, though that would have helped about an hour ago.” Falcon’s voice filtered through his ear.

He looked around to see all the robots large and small were now grounded, unmoving, dead. Huh. Looking at the gun, he pocketed it, it was his new favourite toy - a robot killer.  _ Perfect _ .

“How did you know they were connected via hive technology?”

Bucky rubbed his face tiredly, “I have a masters in Mechatronic psychology.”

“Really?” Falcon sounded impressed at his made up degree.

“Sure.” He lied, and looked towards where Steve was standing like a super sized oblivious dick with Fury, suit burnt and hanging off him in various degrees of damage. Bucky had to avert his eyes, because he was so furious he couldn’t see straight. 

Making his way back to Natasha and Daisy before he ran over to punch Steve - again, Natasha looked up at his approach and immediately smirked at him. She knew where his thoughts lay; her brow quirked, speaking volumes.

“We had to contain them in one spot, having no idea if they could contaminate through airborne particulars, so Hawkeye filled the room with an array of explosives and we just crossed our fingers they had deteriorated enough for it to stick." Bucky gave her an exasperated look, not placated at all. She continued, ignoring him, like usual. "There was a back door Cap fled through, well almost, he got caught in the explosion a bit.”

“A bit.” Bucky deadpanned, Natasha’s eyes flicked to his fists which were balled tight enough to cause bleeding, he relaxed his grip.

“Those soldiers, those poor people. The serum ripped through them on a molecular level, but never stabilised like Steve’s did. They were essentially running on adrenaline and pure strength and after a few hours, the reports differ on exactly how long, their skin would start to bubble and basically melted from their bones, muscles disintegrating. Fuck, it’s disgusting what Hydra did to them. The explosion was the kindest way out for them - well, in this situation.”

“And Brock  _ wanted _ to be one of them?”

Natsha nodded, “I don’t think he knew the side-effects or that it actually wasn’t ready, maybe Pierce liked him after all, and that’s why he said no. Thankfully Hydra hadn’t perfected the serum, but they were close from what we could tell.” 

“Are you eating a muesli bar?” Hawkeye suddenly piped up from beside him, Bucky certainly did not jump, “aw, man, I’m so hungry.” 

Bucky didn’t respond, just shoved the whole thing in his mouth and chewed loudly. He literally had zero fucks left to give.   
  


The anger had time to fester on the quinjet ride and by the time they’d made it back to the Tower, Bucky's body thrummed with it. Everyone could feel the tension in the air and left Bucky alone in the rear of the jet while Falcon suddenly needed Steve's help at the controls - the whole way back. Bucky had become a master at ignoring the small worried glances Steve threw his way the whole time.

Bucky knew abstractly that his anger was born from Steve's bombshell earlier and his own inability to have time to process it. He had thousands of questions, needed just as many answers and all he could think about was the fact he could've lost Steve in the explosion. Lost him and not had the chance to… what? Bucky wasn't quite ready to tackle that question yet. 

Yes, he knew the Steve he'd fallen in love with was the same person he'd had a heavy crush on, but  _ were _ they really the same? Bucky had finally let his guard down, let someone in - and now, he had to let two people in.  _ If _ he wanted. What a goddamn quandary to find himself in. 

His thoughts splintered back to the explosion and the fact that Steve had no idea if his recovering body could have withstood a hit of that magnitude - clearly the other supersoldiers couldn't, and Bucky was right where he started.

Spitting mad.

Everyone disembarked and went their own way and Bucky was no different, except he stood in the darkness of the stairwell door. He could hold, not move, remain unseen for the longest time. He was a sniper after all - this was what he did best, lie in wait.

Steve descended from the bowels of the quinjet, ripping shreds of material off from his uniform looking forlorn and Bucky could see how red the skin was underneath - red from healing, the fucker lied. He  _ was _ injured.

Fury and Coulson left, the latter staring at Cap longer than necessary which didn't help Bucky's mental state at all. He felt possessive as all hell, and even knowing Coulson was hero worshipping and nothing more, still pushed Bucky’s buttons.

He watched as Steve looked around hopefully at the empty hanger, then when he saw no-one else waiting for him, started to walk dejectedly, right past Bucky’s hiding spot. Bucky yanked him through the door, flinging his large body against the stair railing. The door clicked shut and it was just the two of them, alone in the stairwell.

“Buck?” Steve gasped, voice echoing slightly down the floors, his face showcasing shock, worry and a heavy dose of relief. 

Bucky didn’t want to talk, not right now. Right now, right this second he needed to  _ feel _ Steve, to know he was alive, to know he was okay. Just so he could kill him later.

He grabbed the remnants of the front of Steve’s suit, which wasn’t much, but enough so he could fist it and force his face forward, slamming their lips together. Their first kiss essentially. For all of the surprise in Steve’s posture, he soon melted into it. But Bucky didn’t want nice, he wanted bruising, he wanted punishing.

He bit into Steve's bottom lip then sucked at it painfully, eliciting a needy moan deep in Steve's throat. There were no soft pecks, no touching of foreheads, no looking deep into the others eyes. This was payback. This was all for Bucky. This was him taking pleasure - for himself. Biting once again into the soft flesh of Steve’s lip, he pushed hard, not allowing him to reciprocate, not slow it down. Bucky was relentless in his endeavour to bruise Steve’s mouth, to claim him.

Once Steve collapsed forward into a moaning, needy mess, Bucky pulled back from Steve's abused puffy mouth and gripped his hip tightly, pinching it cruelly, noticing the way Steve's eyes darkened and hearing the rush of an excited inhale follow. Steve liked that Bucky had taken control. Good. Because he wasn't stopping.

“Turn around.” He barked. Steve complied so quickly he by all rights should have pulled a muscle. Another good point for supersoldier genetics.

Bucky pressed up against Steve’s back, pushing him into the railing and shoved his hand roughly into Steve's pants, finding him already painfully hard and gave a sharp dry tug. Steve shuddered against him, leaning back into his heat - and Bucky let him for a moment. Bucky was too distracted by the perfect weight in his hands, it was the same cock, with the same small bend halfway down it and Bucky could have wept in relief.

"Christ, you feel so good wrapped around me. Missed this." Steve hissed through his teeth and Bucky, having most of Steve's back on display, leant forward and sucked a sharp bruise just left of his spine, while tightening his grip. He'd missed it too and it had only been a few days, he wouldn’t admit it now though. It wasn't the time.

Steve arched back, "oh shit…"

Bucky quickly removed his hand to lick a wet stripe over his palm, it was a filthy and downright dirty move, but Bucky didn’t make a habit of keeping lube packets in his combat gear. Maybe he’d rethink that. Steve whined and squirmed until Bucky's hand returned.

"Was gonna jerk you with my metal hand," Bucky hissed and Steve's spine bowed as he let out an incoherent warble of 'yeses and pleases'. It was something they'd touched on but never tried at the cabin. Bucky leaned forward and bit Steve's ear, then licked the shell, hand twisting and pulling at a relentlessly fast pace over his weeping cock, "there's nothing quite like it, Stevie, all that potential for destruction wrapped around the most precious of flesh."

Steve's head fell back onto Bucky's shoulder, whimpering, and he took advantage of all the skin on display, sucking kisses and marks into him. Showing not only him, but the world, Steve was with Bucky and no one else that night.

It only took a few more tugs and Steve's body went taut like a violin string before a full-body shudder exploded through him. Bucky's name on his lips like a prayer, as his cock jerked and twitched in Bucky's palm. Wetting them both with his seed.

“Christ, you’re perfect, so good for me...” Steve warbled as he convulsed against Bucky. Limbs going languid.

It was  _ so _ familiar, yet so painfully not and Bucky froze.

He couldn't stay. He had to go. He needed time to think. What the hell had he just done? The intensity of grabbing Steve and making him his, making sure Steve knew physically that Bucky could have him anytime, anywhere, scared him. He was riding on instincts, fear of almost losing Steve in the explosion, not actually thinking about what it all meant, how he really felt about everything. Sex always muddied the waters and he’d just kicked up the biggest mudpile.  _ Fuck _ .

He ghosted immediately, hearing Steve cry out after him, confusion and longing in his voice. But Bucky kept running, kept going until he was outside, and only then did he allow himself to ask the question.

What the hell did he do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well you made it through!
> 
> I know not everyone is going to understand where Bucky and Steve are coming from, and why they’ve reacted in the ways they do, but I love these characters and this story has been a labour of that love, and I hope you end up loving them too - and I promise communication is afoot - very much so!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - there may be communication somewhere in this chapter... (I know - don't be shocked ) :)

Bucky wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d fled. Fled like the little bitch he was, too wired to think properly and have an actual adult conversation with Steve. A conversation where they might _actually_ have a second to breath and to figure out the mess that was - them.

Sighing into his takeaway coffee - which tasted like dirt compared to Steve’s blend, even with it’s extra flavours and three sugars to temper the bitterness - he looked out over the truckstop parking lot. His new Jeep (the best part of his week so far) sat gleaming in the afternoon sun, and he made his way over to rest a hip on the bonnet to enjoy the last of the day's warmth before continuing on. 

As the Jeep ate up the miles from the city, he found he’d become incrementally calmer, the distance from New York, from everyone giving him a little more clarity, a little breathing space. 

The road to Lake Placid was thankfully not too busy, and although returning to his cabin may have been foolish, he really didn’t have anywhere else to go, not where he could think unimpeded anyway. Sure he could have crashed at Becca’s or (god forbid), his mother's, but suffering under the ceaseless and invasive questions would not help his state of mind. 

He’d also finally managed to make it past his apartment, unsure of what he’d find - a nest of pigeons who’d taken over his kitchen perhaps - but was pleasantly surprised to see his Super had been in and saved most of his furniture from the weather (and pigeons) while the windows were being repaired. He still had to find a new place to live and pack all his things up, but that was a piece of cake compared to everything else. Although Tony’s offer of an apartment at the Tower was tempting, it probably wasn’t a great idea with the whole… Steve thing. So all in all, at least only _one_ part of his life was flailing spectacularly.

Bucky arrived at the cabin a little after seven in the evening, and when he made it inside, the sensation of his stomach being ripped out hit him. He’d forgotten the rush in which he’d left… _they’d_ left, last time. 

Clothes were strewn all over, towels hung haphazardly on kitchen chairs and the sink was full of dishes, the two mugs on the draining board symbolising more than Bucky wanted to admit. The entire cabin had Steve stamped all over it. Bucky’s eyes slid over the bed, mussed and unmade and his heart skipped a painful beat. Technicoloured images of Steve and himself rolling across it, laughing, tasting each other… coming - a lot - infiltrated his brain and he found himself sitting down hard in a chair, less his legs give way with how real it all was. How absolutely messed up it was.

Having to start somewhere, Bucky methodically began to clean up the kitchen and bathroom, cleared the ash and re-stoked the fire, before tackling the bed. It was a strange and hollow feeling that settled in his gut as he remade it, throwing the soiled linen in the machine. He really had no idea if he’d ever be that close with Steve again, he knew he wanted him, that was a given, but what now? Everything was so tangled and confused in his mind he didn’t know what thread to pull in case the one he chose unravelled… him.

Grabbing a large plush cushion, Bucky threw it before the fireplace and sat down on it so his back was up against the couch, then watched the crackle of flames race up and down a large log he'd carelessly chucked on. He lost himself for a time in the cathartic nature of observing fire consuming a resource, it was simple, it made sense. 

Nothing else did.

Bucky suddenly laughed out loud, which turned into a cackle then broke at the end. Feeling slightly unhinged he grabbed the iron poker and moved the wood around for a bit, liking the feel of the heat against his face as he shifted logs to see the burning red coals underneath. Maybe he had some pink marshmallows left in the cupboard, that would cheer him up.

As he grabbed the bag of soft treats and positioned himself again, he realised not only was he acting like a melodramatic fool, he was thinking like one too. He knew this with absolute certainty. He was also scared and confused out of his wits.

"The terrifying killing machine, the Winter Soldier, scared…" he scoffed into the quiet, watching the sugar and mallow melt over the coals. "Scared of what? A man dressed in a glorified onesie..."

He left the words hanging, and ate his marshmallows while leaning his head back on the couch. He soon sank down further, knowing his back would start hurting in minutes, but he was brooding, a little pain would be fine. Melodramatic fool indeed.

Bucky’s thoughts snagged on the operation the day before and more importantly - how it ended. His cheeks heated as his brain helpfully supplied what had transpired in vivid detail, not sure if it was embarrassment or something _more_ that made him squirm. He'd lost control, not too proud to admit at least that much. He was so absolutely furious at Steve and his complete disregard for his safety. He'd reacted - with a _hand job_. What the actual fuck? Who reacted that way?

Sure, probably more people would enjoy angry ranting to end with being jerked off, Bucky included, but he'd not actually given any thought to their situation. To what Steve had revealed to him, just by simply removing the mask and baring his face. It changed everything.

He couldn’t begin to fathom what Steve’s thoughts would be about the whole thing. Especially as Bucky had left him, pants undone, come staining the fabric - alone in a stairwell. Top marks for aftercare Barnes.

The worst part about his knee jerk reaction, was the fact that he _got_ why Steve lied, he really did. Bucky understood that Steve had to keep his identity a secret, why SHIELD ordered him not to disclose it to anyone. If it had gotten out that Captain America had lost his strength and other attributes and gone back to his pre-war physique, then Hydra, _hell_ , any other enemies of the state could have found him and destroyed him. What a blow to the country that would have been - and to Bucky.

Though, Bucky couldn’t help smile, Steve was one hell of a fighter, obtuse and whip smart - even smaller he had no doubt Steve would win most fights from just sheer dumb stubbornness alone.

No, Bucky reacted the way he did because the Steve he'd fallen for was already _too_ good for him in the first place, add in that he was America's paragon of freedom, an elite hero, the leader of the Avengers, and where did that put Bucky? Out of Steve’s stratosphere. That's where.

Thoughts swirled around in his brain, crashing over each other as he tried to comprehend putting the two men he knew into the one version, so to distract himself he made it to his feet, put the white marshmallows in the cupboard and found his emergency bottle of whiskey. Grabbing a mug off the sink (of course it was Steve's) he headed outside into the twilight and sat on the porch overlooking the forest, letting the cool air and evening sounds of nature wash over him.

Exhaling loudly, Bucky knew the other reason he was stuck halfway between anger and disappointment was the fact Steve had known he was the Winter Soldier, had guessed and Bucky confirmed it. So why then, having worked on dozens of operations together professionally, did Steve remain silent on his identity? Especially after their closeness, which was a polite way to say ‘fucking each others asses off’. He knew Steve had said he wasn’t able to disclose who he was on more than one occasion, but still. Bucky let out a frustrated breath.

Yes, he understood _why_ Steve didn’t tell him, but it still hurt he didn’t _choose_ to tell him sooner.

Surely it wasn’t because Steve looked so different, there was no way that Steve would think Bucky _wouldn’t_ have accepted him in either form? Would he?

His head hurt, he usually didn’t think this long and hard about anything. Except pizza toppings, that usually took a bit of brain power.

Taking a deep mouthful of whiskey, Bucky visualised the fight leaving him, letting it escape his body, he was too tired to keep holding it close, so as the alcohol burned down his throat, he imagined it also washed out the anger. It actually started to work, and he relaxed further, he’d have to tell Bruce next time he saw him.

The snap of a branch close by made him stiffen up, but then sigh, resigned. He should have fucking known.

"Natasha… I said I needed time."

"Not Natasha, I'm afraid." A very deep familiar voice hesitantly said.

Bucky inhaled sharply, staring straight ahead at the trees, not showing any reaction, although on the inside he'd run back to the bed and was hiding under a blanket. He took another long sip, just to do something with his hands. Noticing this time the whiskey didn’t wash the anger away - it was, unsurprisingly, returning.

Steve sat down next to him, the seat creaking under the added weight, highlighting how much he’d changed.

“Although you _could_ blame her for my arrival.” Steve sighed.

Bucky watched Steve in his peripheral as he ran a hand over his face, before letting out a quiet breath. Bucky remained silent, scared that he would blurt out something unforgivable, like, _I love you_ . The air crackled between them in unresolved tension - anger and sexual, he could almost taste it, sweet yet _bitter_. Steve was close, thigh just pressing against his, distracting Bucky, the heat of his body was almost unbearable. He moved his leg away and found he could breathe easier, Steve noticed immediately.

“Yeah okay, I get it - you’re pissed.” Steve said and Bucky tensed, not expecting to be called out so bluntly.

“Ya think?” his words harsher and louder than he’d meant. But he felt Steve loosen up beside him, like he was relieved to hear Bucky’s voice, that he’d responded at least in some form. It shifted something inside of Bucky and he finally looked at Steve. It was dark on the porch, only the kitchen light from inside filtering out, so Steve’s face was partially in shadows, but it still took Bucky’s breath away, especially when Steve’s gaze met his unflinchingly.

“Okay.” He paused for a second, “my name is Steven Grant Rogers, I was born in 1918, and as much as I sometimes wish I could - I can’t change the fact I’m also Captain America. I’m… I’m sorry. You have no idea _how_ sorry.”

Bucky blinked, the urge to punch rising. “Jesus, stop being a fucking martyr for one moment.”

He passed the mug over to a shocked Steve, who took it gratefully, taking a sip, wincing only slightly at the taste. It wasn’t the best blend, but Bucky was working with what he had.

Steve was so much bigger now, sitting beside him and Bucky was still annoyed, lost and confused but swirling with all the feelings of inadequacy, was the smallest seed of hope. 

“Christ, is that what you think? I'm not upset that you're Captain… look, I just need you to explain why the fuck you’d tell me like that?” Bucky demanded, taking the mug from Steve and throwing back the rest of the whiskey. Yeah, it really _was_ bad.

“Well,” Steve scratched the back of his head, and Bucky watched the movement closely, “I figured it was best.”

“Best for who? You?”

“Both of us?” Steve sighed, and Bucky wasn’t stupid, he could tell he was struggling, upset and trying to find words. Which is why even though he was furious and wanted to interrupt, he didn’t.

“Maybe I got that wrong, scratch that, I _did_ get it wrong. In hindsight it was stupidly selfish, but we didn’t know how the operation would pan out, it could potentially have been my only opportunity to come clean to you.”

“You had _plenty_ of opportunities pal.” Bucky bit out.

Steve had the presence of mind to look chagrined, “you’re right, of course you are.” He ran a hand over his face again, and Bucky realised it was a nervous gesture, and he felt better at seeing Captain America, Steve, looking as unsure as _he_ felt on the inside. “I wanted to tell you, a million times it was on the tip of my tongue. Fury, well, SHIELD had my identity on lock-down, it was too dangerous they said, would compromise anyone who knew. It wasn’t about trust, I need you to know that.” He paused for effect, “I just thought by the time we finished kicking Hydra’s ass, you'd be too tired to still be angry at me.” 

He looked a little sheepish with his explanation, obviously seeing the look of utter disbelief on Bucky’s face. The words he’d spoken were one truth, but not all of it, Bucky knew there was an underlying reason why Steve didn’t tell him earlier, and although Fury and SHIELD were a big part of it, there was clearly more.

“Well, you're wrong on that account, I'm still fucking furious.”

“I can see that.” Steve said and gestured helplessly, looking equal parts devastated, forlorn and contrite. Damn it, if it wasn’t a little humbling to see Captain America look like that, for him - over him. His indignant fury was being slowly chipped away at. But he wasn’t letting it go too easily.

“Hot tip, in future don’t damn well tell the person you’re fucking your secret identity two seconds before jumping out of a plane into hostile territory, then go and practically throw yourself on a bomb. I’m starting to wonder if you really _are_ the greatest tactician of all time because - Steven Grant Rogers, AKA Captain America, _you_ are a fucking idiot.”

The sharp surprised bark of laughter from Steve, elicited the same response in Bucky, and within seconds they were cackling, almost hysterically in Bucky’s case.

“Jeez, I’ve missed you.”

And fuck, Steve wasn’t supposed to say that. Bucky’s heart stuttered in his chest as he looked owlishly back at him. The sincerity in Steve’s eyes a balm, something Bucky had craved to see but didn’t realise he’d needed, not until that exact moment.

“I... _shit,_ I get it if you’re not.” Steve stopped, took a deep breath and tried again, “I would, get it - you know. If you didn’t like me like this.” He waved a hand over his body.

“Like what?” Bucky strangled out.

“Big.”

The laugh which escaped Bucky, once again almost delirious, and he saw in the soft light Steve’s profile flame red at his unnecessary outburst. He almost felt bad, but then remembered why they were in this screwed up situation in the first place.

“You’re absolutely clueless aren’t you?”

Steve raised an eyebrow and looked searchingly at Bucky after his words.

“I mean, for someone so smart, you really just… don’t get it...” Bucky trailed off, tired, surprised and just not in the right headspace to tackle all of the things he wanted to know from Steve, not that night anyway.

“I guess I don’t.” Steve turned and whispered into the night.

His presence, the sheer size of Steve and his personality, of having him near, softened Bucky’s resolve. And although Bucky wasn’t yet ready to give Steve the Spanish Inquisition, the knowledge that he’d come to Bucky, sought him out, that in itself lent credence to the fact he was invested. He wouldn’t have travelled here, looking so unsure just to tell Bucky he wanted nothing to do with him.

Watching the dejected and stiff curve to Steve’s shoulders as he stoically stared into the darkened forest, Bucky could at least admit one thing. “For the record, I’m glad you’re here.”

Steve’s head snapped back to him, the hesitant smile on his lips piercing through Bucky’s feigned indifference. He couldn’t sit here any longer, else throw himself into Steve’s rather large arms just to know what they’d feel like around him, so he stood up and stretched instead.

“Come on in, I’ll make us some dinner,” Bucky spoke over his shoulder, seeing the way Steve watched him intently, hungrily. It made something deep inside Bucky thrill, and foolishly he didn’t try and tamper it down. “I actually brought supplies this time - hope you like steak.”

Steve trailed in after him, “I’m happy with whatever you’re willing to give me Buck.”

He knew Steve wasn’t talking about the food, but nodded his head once in response, seeing how Steve’s shoulders relaxed at the non verbal reply.

Bucky tried and failed to squash down the tingle of desire that curled in his stomach at the way Steve’s eyes didn’t leave him, followed his every movement, hungry for attention, yet letting Bucky give only what he was comfortable with. So why instead of working everything out and getting answers, did Bucky want to be spread out over the kitchen bench and taken apart over and over again? His brain and dick really needed to get on the same page.

After dinner, Steve went to shower, Bucky watching him duck under the curtain bar to turn the taps on before shutting the door. He didn’t used to have to do that. 

It was strange to witness the parallels of large Steve walking around and interacting with the cabin. The way he tended the fire identical to before, the same crooked grin he gave Bucky when they sat at the table to eat, (Bucky knowing exactly what he was recalling, face flaming), down to the way he complained about the bugs and the chill in the air, even though it didn't affect him now. It was so different, yet so much the same and Bucky could admit, it wasn’t all bad. 

Would it take adjusting? Sure. Would he miss tucking Steve across his chest each night? Absolutely. But this was his chance now, the only Steve he had, and Bucky needed to make a decision on if he could move forward.

The bathroom door opened and Steve came out wearing loose sweats, feet bare and a slightly damp t-shirt strained across his broad chest. Bucky noted with a small smile it was a t-shirt for Fall Out Boy, not nineties rock, but he was okay with it. Oh, _and_ wet hair - this man was unbelievable. Suddenly Bucky wanted to punch his face again - badly, just for being so ridiculously handsome and searing the innocent thoughts straight out of his brain and replacing them with glorified porn. 

_Fuck_ . It dawned on him that he’d not had sex with _this_ version of Steve, with Cap, and all ideas of sitting down to talk about what had transpied over the last few weeks fled. The devil on his shoulder whispered that to make an informed decision - it was only fair he sampled both Steve’s. Bucky was exhilarated at the idea even though his reasoning was completely unethical and very wrong. But the heart wanted what the heart wanted, or in his case, crudely - what the cock wanted. And it wanted - a lot.

“Er, Buck?” Steve started, eyes clear and full of questions, sensing the change in Bucky’s demeanor. The towel he held to his head ruffling his wet hair, and damn, Steve should not be able to steal his breath so easily.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Bucky crooked his finger for Steve to come forward. He quirked an eyebrow in response before moving towards him eagerly, towel dropping to the ground. It was almost a role reversal from the last time they’d been there.

Bucky met Steve halfway, taking that one extra step directly into his space - crowding him. Steve’s eyes flicked between Bucky’s eyes down to his mouth then back again, doing his best to not move forward, to allow Bucky to set the pace. Bucky could feel Steve vibrating where he stood, wanting him, needing him and damn, didn’t that just blow Bucky’s mind.

Leaning in towards him, Bucky watched Steve’s hopeful expression, and almost lost his train of thought before grabbing the back of Steve’s neck. He ignored the sharp stunned inhale, and slotted his mouth over the perfection of Steve’s. 

At first Bucky didn’t know what to expect or how to feel, Steve so much larger, more robust than before and it was almost like being with a stranger, new, and as if sensing his hesitance, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and kissed back earnestly, with everything he had. Then it all came together, the slight tease of tongue, the growl deep in Steve’s throat, it was all familiar, it was _his_ Steve, and jesus if Bucky didn’t get him naked, to love on all of that beef soon, he was going to die. Melodramatic, but truthful.

“We still need to talk. Actually we have a fucking _lot_ to talk about.” Bucky blurted between open mouthed kisses, and why in hell did he say that? It was hardly the time. His brain was obviously scrambled from all the skin he was touching underneath Steve’s t-shirt.

“Sure, Buck,” Steve murmured as he kissed, bit and licked soothing stripes up his neck, eliciting full body vibrations.

“I'm serious.” 

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky stopped thinking so much when Steve’s hand cupped his cock through his thin pants, and shit - his fucking hand was huge. Bucky was not going to survive this. All bets were off.

Steve pressed hard against his thickening cock and Bucky shuddered under the ministrations, enjoying how Steve shivered as his hand explored, deftly unzipping Bucky’s pants, to pull them down mid-thigh. And fuck, that’s what he needed, had been missing. Steve’s hand pushed under Bucky’s underwear, grasping him, tugging him into full stiffness. His knees buckled and next second Steve had him pushed up against the table, he hadn’t even felt them move, it was _hot_.

Bucky went to reciprocate but Steve pushed his hands away.

“Let me take care of you.”

He shuddered, _well_ , how was he supposed to say no to that? Within seconds, Steve had grabbed the lube from the bathroom then was back, lips pushed against Bucky's hungrily, tongue filling his mouth so he had to breathe through his nose. Oh god, mouth full, cock being pumped and Steve’s huge body pressing against him. It was so different but it was all Steve. It was all real.

“God, I thought I’d lost this,” Steve breathed into his mouth, before filling it again with his wickedly talented tongue. How was he so good at kissing? “Really didn’t think you’d want me when I was big again.”

Bucky’s ears heard the words, but he couldn’t respond, Steve’s wrist twisted with each pull and Bucky was gasping, mouth wide as Steve began to plunder it again, not allowing him a second to think, to respond, to do nothing but take the pleasure which was so freely given.

His cock was hard, twitching under Steve’s large warm hand. Christ, he was not going to last long. He also couldn’t stop his brain from exclaiming quite distractingly that he was receiving a fucking handjob from Captain America.

“You are so damn responsive, I love it.” Steve rasped as he pinched Bucky’s hip hard, then tightened his fist so much it almost chafed, just on the cusp of pain. “Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” 

Suddenly Steve began to jack him so fast and so hard that Bucky came unexpectedly with a shout, Steve’s mouth swallowing the groans of pleasure as his cock pumped come over them both. Oh god, it was incredible.

“Jesus fuck,” Bucky gasped when Steve finally allowed him a deep breath, but he missed the heat of Steve’s mouth devouring his almost immediately. He was such a sap and so hopelessly smitten on this man.

Steve’s dark blue eyes raked over him, his face, his neck with the little bites he could feel had been left behind, then finally down to the mess over Steve’s hand and Bucky’s pants.

“You’re goddamn spectacular. Gorgeous.” Steve whispered before leaning back in to leave the sweetest kiss on Bucky’s lips. And Bucky’s resolve to carry his anger through seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke. Jesus Christ - he _really_ was gone on this man.

Before he blurted out something which he wasn’t ready to disclose yet, Bucky kicked his pants completely off, wiping the mess up with them under Steve’s hungry gaze.

“Get naked and lay down.” Bucky ordered, and watched as Steve almost tripped over his feet to comply. Hiding his grin, Bucky followed and pulled his own t-shirt off, marvelling in the rippling muscles of Steve’s back and ass as he jumped on one leg to dislodge his sweats.

Then Steve was spread out across the bed. Gold skin on display, cock engorged, bobbing and wet at the tip. Mouthwatering in fact. His body looked completely different, but Bucky could see so many intricate similarities. The curve in his cock, the dusky pinkness of his nipples, the crooked nose - those hands, so capable and soft and worshipful on Bucky’s skin. Yeah - this was Steve. Fuck, he would miss small Steve but he was just as entranced with large Steve. He could do this. He would, just to keep the look of longing and lust shining from Steve’s eyes from dimming as Bucky climbed onto the bed.

Running his palms up Steve’s thick, taut, sinewy thighs, Bucky squeezed in increments as he did, feeling Steve tensing up beneath his hands and whoa, that was hot. He couldn’t wait for them to be wrapped around his head, losing himself between all of that power. Steve’s gaze was on him, staring down the length of his body, and Bucky left chaste kisses along the slightly hairy skin and without warning or giving away his intentions, he swiftly sucked Steve down in one inhale.

Steve came up off the bed, choking off a deep moan, hands automatically coming up to grab Bucky’s hair and tugging, he was already halfway to an orgasm. Bucky revelled in the feeling of having Steve’s touch on his scalp again, yanking softly, as Bucky used teeth along the tenderness of his cock, lapping him like he was starving for it, like only Steve’s come could slake his thirst. It just about summed up how he felt anyway.

“Gods, your mouth, your pouty, wonderful damn mouth, it’s magical. Feels so good, baby.” Steve moaned and Bucky preened under the endearment, loving how wrecked Steve sounded - because of _him_. “Not gonna last, you’re too good, too hot. Oh shit… that, keep doing that.”

Bucky gripped Steve’s hips, leaving bruising fingermarks behind, knowing that he could play a little rougher, hoping for it honestly. The perfect thrill of not being able to mark him permanently, mar his skin. Steve’s hips began to pump, seeking depth and heat, Bucky loosened his jaw, allowing Steve to fuck up into his mouth. It was glorious, the best - it was exactly what he needed.

“Gonna come,” Steve’s wrung out voice whimpered and Bucky doubled down until Steve came with a shout, gripping the back of Bucky’s neck so tight he couldn’t move. Bucky floated in bliss, until he realised Steve’s face was right in front of him, that he’d sat up, cupping Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs stroking over them reverently, eyes full of emotions Bucky couldn’t name, didn’t want to think about, not while he felt like this. He didn’t even remember moving.

“Perfect, so damn perfect for me,” Steve whispered as he leant in to press their lips against the other, tongue darting out to lick Bucky’s used mouth clean. He melted into Steve’s embrace.

In the next moment Bucky was pulled up on the bed, head nestled on Steve’s shoulder, pliant arm curled around his middle, so broad and wide Bucky’s fingers didn’t touch the bed on the other side, another difference, but he didn’t mind. He knew deep down he loved both Stevies.

He felt a kiss to the crown of his head, as Steve murmured, “all mine.”

Bucky snuggled in further, drifting off, loving the sound of it, he most certainly was Steve’s.

The smell of caffeine woke Bucky and he groaned loudly, hearing a chuckle from the other side of the cabin. He luxuriated in the moment of laying in bed, feeling better than he had in a long time, physically _and_ mentally. For the first time that week, he started to realise things might actually work out.

“I missed your coffee the most.” Bucky called out, eyes shut, enjoying the sun shining in on the bed.

He heard a disgruntled huff, “that’s what you missed the most?”

“And your smart mouth - no, actually I take that back, most of that was you being stubborn as all hell.”

Steve’s scoff making him grin, he rolled over and opened an eye and appreciated the view of a naked Steve fossicking in the kitchen. Jesus, he was beautiful. Both versions were. Then Steve walked over with two mugs, handing one to him and Bucky’s eyes dropped to his cock, he reached out and gave it a small considerate squeeze. “I’m glad not everything changed.”

He looked up and watched Steve’s cheeks blaze in red, “drink your coffee unless you want me to spread you out and love on you all morning.”

Bucky blinked, the word love stalling his brain, “is that an option?” he finally managed.

Steve chuckled and sat himself up against the headboard, Bucky following suit, taking a sip of his drink. “Actually I take that back, coffee first.”

“Really?” Steve breathed in mock offense. “Coffee over cock. The romance is dead.”

They sat for a bit, sides pressed up against the other, Steve throwing his leg over Bucky’s as if he couldn’t _not_ touch him in every way. He more than liked it. 

“Fury is pissed you blew the lab up.” Steve said after a while.

“What? Natasha told me to,” Bucky responded, a little surprised.

Steve hummed and smiled into his mug, it made Bucky's heart flip over at how much it hadn't changed.

“Yes she did, I'm going to assume she didn't think that Pierce’s raygun research should end up in _any_ agencies hands.”

Bucky snorted, he didn't disagree at all. Natsha was always playing her own game in conjunction to Fury. It was why she was a stellar spy, the best SHIELD had. He sat in quiet contemplation for a moment up against Steve’s bulk.

“Why didn’t you really tell me who you were sooner?” He blurted out, surprising himself as he was going to wait, at least until the caffeine had kicked in. 

“It’s classified…”

“Are you fucking-” 

“-I’m kidding. Christ, don’t hit me - I’m joking. _Jesus_ that arm packs a punch.”

Bucky didn’t laugh, just glared, “too soon,” he said. Steve was such a shit.

“Yeah, sorry - saw an opportunity and took it.”

“No it was funny, but read the room.” Steve gave him a look, and when he saw the mirth in Bucky’s eyes, he loosened up. Knowing he was being teased.

“Okay, honestly,” Steve placed his empty mug down and shifted, so he was facing Bucky, and for some reason it made him swallow hard. What in hell was Steve about to say? “So I’ve liked you, _wanted_ you for almost a year now, the first day I met the Winter Soldier was the first day I started to desire _more._ Wanted to have a connection with someone, well him… you - a proper connection.”

Bucky sucked in a surprised breath, having no idea he’d left such an impression, especially as Steve's impression on Bucky had been so similar. He dare not interrupt to tell him though.

“I’d planned to ask you out properly, every time we worked together actually, but you were, too... I don’t know - unattainable. I steeled my nerves each time to only chicken out at the last minute, too nervous you’d say no.”

Bucky scoffed, “Coming from Captain America, that’s rich.”

Steve punched his arm with a smile, “anyway, SHIELD fell and I was hit with the raygun. I didn’t know what had happened at first. I mean the effects weren’t immediate, it took about an hour, and I kept fighting as best I could, but I was small and practically the same as I was before the serum. It was completely disconcerting, I was back in a familiar foreign skin. I still didn’t stand a chance against the might of Hydra though. Luckily Nat had gotten me out and that’s when I woke up in the bed of a mesmerizingly beautiful stranger.”

Bucky’s face heated as he ignored the compliment. “But, you figured out I was the Winter Soldier though? Fairly quickly.”

“Not straight away. I mean, once I knew you were a field agent, I wondered if we’d met before on an operation as there was a familiarity about you. Once or twice I _thought_ I felt your solid arm, but couldn't get close enough to check properly, so it wasn’t until after we’d been to the warehouse where Brock and Pierce were that I knew for certain. You, err, you flipped your hair, then put it up. In the exact same way as I'd seen the Winter Soldier do on the quinjet. I immediately knew.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“What?” Steve asked frowning.

“My secret identity, one I can proudly say in three years had never been compromised, Natasha aside, was discovered because I _flicked_ my damn hair?”

“Errr, yeah… I’m not sure if you’re actually angry or not right now. I can stop telling the story if you’d like?”

Bucky waved his hand for Steve to keep going, annoyed beyond belief that putting his hair in a bun had outed him, but also secretly thrilled Captain America had been watching him closely enough as the Winter Soldier to figure him out. Maybe it was time for a haircut though.

“Sure... so I was in a house with the most breathtaking man I’d ever met, trying really hard not to show how damn attracted I was to you, because there was no way you'd reciprocate, find the smaller, weaker version of me appealing. But god Bucky, the way you looked at me, the way your eyes just devoured me. It was heaven, I felt _seen_ , I was me, Steve, my real self and you made me feel like the most desirable person on the planet. Then I got selfish.” 

“Selfish?” Bucky repeated, still a little stunned at all Steve was laying out, unselfconsciously.

“I…” Steve trailed off, then looked deeply into Bucky’s eyes, pleading for understanding written all over his face. “I didn’t want to tell you, because you liked me… as Steve, I wasn’t The Cap, I wasn’t a hero, I was just a man, someone desirable and you wanted _me_. Just me. But then I realised as we got deeper into this, it wasn’t fair to keep it from you, you deserved to make your own choice about who you were with. But I had to call Fury first, tell him I was letting the Winter Soldier into the inner sanctum, as a full member of the Avengers. So then I could tell you everything, and pray you still wanted me when you found out who I really was.”

Bucky let the explanation roll over him, he’d known it wasn’t all about SHIELD ordering Steve to stay silent. But he had no idea that Steve was insecure enough about himself and what they'd shared, he felt he couldn’t be truthful, that he had to omit he was Captain America, just to get more time with Bucky. Everything was starting to make so much more sense.

“So, what you're trying to say is..." he paused and watched as Steve's eyes flicked across his face, nervous, awaiting Bucky's words - his judgement. "You've spoken to Fury, and I’m a full Avenger now?”

“That’s what you took from my heartfelt monologue?” Steve asked.

“Absolutely. What’s the dental like?”

“Really?” 

“Priorities, Steve - I have a sore tooth.” He took pity on Steve a second later, by smiling softly, “I thought it strange you weren’t fazed by my metal arm, you didn’t even flinch or ask about it.”

“Yeah, not at all, I think it’s hot actually, I have a thing about you being able to overpower me...” Steve’s eyes raked over Bucky, and the heat in the room intensified by a hundred. “But, as you know, intimately - I never got a chance to tell you I was Cap, not here, not how I wanted. And as the serum ripped through me, fighting off the rayguns properties - which honestly I hoped for, but in the same breath didn’t, I went back to this. Back to Captain America and it completely derailed me.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, stomach rippling at every word.

“Because you liked small Steve, you liked who I was on the inside, not this big, muscled up version.” He looked at Bucky through his eyelashes and he caught his breath at the sincerity in Steve’s blue eyes, who then exhaled through his nose with a wry smile. “So, maybe I told you on the quinjet at the most ridiculous time, because we were about to join the fight, therefore giving you no time to reject me.”

He stared at Steve for the longest moment, until Steve began to fidget, “Oh Steve, you’re absolutely clueless.”

“Hey!”

“I’ve had a damn crush on Captain America from the moment we first met, you basically wiped out all other attractions. I didn’t want anyone else, but I also had no clue how to tell you, how to show you, so I thought it was a pipe dream, a fantasy. Then I met Grant, and fuck did I want him, I was so happy to finally be attracted to someone other than The Cap. But in the end - I was just drawn to _you,_ no matter _what_ you looked like.”

Steve went slack jawed, staring at Bucky as if he were the most precious person in the world, like he’d gifted him with something priceless. Then he launched himself at Bucky and grappled him to the bed to kiss him senseless. _Alright then_ , Bucky thought he'd sounded like the romantic sap he was trying desperately not to become. Clearly it pushed Steve’s buttons.

“God I love you,” Steve breathed into his mouth.

And Bucky was not expecting that, not at all. His heart raced, blood pounding in his ears as the realisation hit that Steve was all in, just like he was. _Oh Lord._

“Yeah well, you may have gotten under my skin just as much, Stevie. I think you may be it for me.”

Steve leaned up, so he could beam at him, happiness bursting over his expression, it was contagious and Bucky smiled like a loon right back at him. Then Steve licked into his mouth hungrily and Bucky squirmed beneath him, anticipation and excitement welling. It was all going to be okay. They were going to do this - together.

Later that night after dinner, Steve found Bucky sitting on the porch couch and handed him a glass of whiskey.

“This stuff is terrible,” Bucky remarked, but took it anyway.

“Yep, but it suits the ambiance of sitting out here in darkened nature.”

Bucky scoffed and leant into Steve as he sat, Steve’s arm coming up and over, tucking Bucky neatly in to him. Bucky hummed, happy and content for the moment.

“What’s our next move?” Bucky asked, looking up and unable to stop himself placing a kiss on Steve’s ridiculous jaw. 

Steve sucked in a small breath, pleasing Bucky to no end, “Pierce. We have to find him and dismantle his Hydra sect before he gains more members and continues his plans. We aren’t that naive to think the warehouse was his only operation, and that the plans we stole were the only copies.”

Bucky nodded, looking out at the darkness, seeing lights in the distance from other cabins twinkling through the moving tree tops. “Do we need to head back yet?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I have you to myself for a little longer. Nat will let us know when they have a lead, said Fury was giving us some downtime. To relax.”

“Huh, not sure we are doing much of that, pal.” Bucky teased, they’d been sweaty and pushing each other to the edge non-stop all day. Bucky wasn’t sure how many more times in twenty four hours he could come. But he was very eagerly willing to find out.

Chuckling, Steve kissed his temple and took another sip of drink, coughing almost immediately.

“Yeah, not sure I can do this, it’s like gasoline.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bucky shot back, “you’re being dramatic because your taste buds still think cabbage soup is a delicacy.”

“Really? Jesus, the snark on you, Buck. I liked it better when you were the strong and silent type.”

“You could always gag me,” he tried, please when Steve’s eyes snapped to him and his expression darkened into something hungry, something needy and borderline possessive. Yep, button pushed.

“Fuck, how are you real?” Steve breathed back and tilted Bucky’s chin up for a kiss, which deepened until Bucky was suddenly up on his knees straddling Steve on the couch, grinding their cocks together. "How did I get so damn lucky?"

Steve’s hand came up to grab the back of Bucky’s neck, holding him in place as he kissed hungrily into his wet heat. Jesus, Steve kissed like no one else on the planet. It made him lose his mind, in the best way.

“Up,” Steve demanded and Bucky jumped off immediately without question, only half wondering if it should be a concern at how he just always gave himself over to Steve. Then Steve was pulling his clothes off - all of them - until he stood outside completely naked in the dusk before a man who looked at him like he was a deity.

“Turn around, lean up against the railing.”

Bucky shivered and complied, bending over slightly, leaving his legs open, knowing exactly what Steve wanted. He heard a pleased murmur behind him, before the sound of Steve’s own clothes hit the deck. His thighs trembled in anticipation, wanting this, craving it, almost to distraction. What the hell was it going to be like when they were back in civilisation? Not to be able to do this at a whim. Bucky thought maybe he could ask Steve to move here with him and disappear from the world forever. Not practical, but tempting.

He heard the snick of the lube and chuckled, “planned this out did you?”

“Always planning to fuck you sweetheart,” Steve replied as his finger circled Bucky’s hole, slightly loose from their shower adventure earlier. Kissing Bucky’s shoulder wetly, he pushed in and Bucky sighed out, gripping the railing as Steve started to slowly pump his digit deep then shallow before twisting it. The second finger entered with no resistance, Bucky so ready for the feeling of Steve filling him up. The pace Steve set, slow, methodical and by the time he was three fingers in, Bucky was panting, gasping into the night for more, for his cock.

Then Steve’s fingers disappeared before the hardened head of his cock pressed against the rim of muscle which fluttered in suspense.

“Yes,” Bucky breathed as Steve slid in until his balls pressed up against his ass. Then he began to grind, hips circling, not pulling in or out, but just small pulses and jerks, driving Bucky mad with the need for him to move, to pound into him, for something other than this slow torture. Steve’s hand came up to grip Bucky’s hair, pulling him back and that was it, this was his weakness, his absolute kryptonite. He moaned, wrecked already.

“You like this don’t you? Being mine, taking everything I give you, no matter what?”

“Always,” Bucky gasped back at the sharp tug against his scalp. Bliss screaming through his tired, aching sated body.

“Yes, always.” Steve repeated, then he moved.

Bucky saw stars as Steve threw his entire body into fucking him hard, the railing creaking beneath them. The cool air hit their sweaty bodies and Bucky keened as Steve thrust deep with a grind each time, hitting every spot in him that felt good, too good.

He was a weeping mess in seconds, and when Steve’s large hand reached around to jerk him as he pounded relentlessly into his body, he screamed out his release with a violent twitch, coming around Steve’s dick, feeling him pushing through it, continuing to drag his cock in and out while he clenched around him. Steve had the stamina and state of mind of a damn god, Bucky could never last after feeling someone come around his dick the few times he’d switched; came almost immediately around Steve - every time.

Steve pressed through his haze and kept on going, skin slapping in the night air, louder and more obscene by the second, the grunts pushed from Steve’s throat, the praise he lavished on Bucky filling the space on the porch and all through it, Bucky whined and pleaded for more.

Minutes or maybe hours later Steve’s hips started the erratic pattern of finally losing control and Bucky was on his tiptoes, taking every inch as Steve slammed into him over and over again, until Steve’s hands grasped his hips tightly, buried deep as he could and Bucky could feel his cock pulsing inside of him. He sobbed in relief, there was no feeling quite like it. He relaxed against the railing as Steve rubbed his back, stroking up and down, soothing, before laying another soft kiss to his shoulders and pulled out.

Bucky didn’t have time to slump as Steve had already grasped him, pulling him onto his lap on the couch. Sighing, his body so relaxed and compliant under Steve’s questing hands, which rubbed at all the sore spots tenderly.

“You’re so good for me, Buck. Love you so much. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.”

Bucky smiled and made a small noise, too tired to argue that Steve had that the wrong way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie - I'm proud of these bozo's :)


	10. Chapter 10

The call came two days later, two blissful days where Bucky had Steve all to himself, and Steve… well, he had taken Bucky apart in every conceivable position he could think of all whilst loving on him in the sweetest way imaginable. Screw going on a retreat to relax, all he needed was Steve and an unimpeded time frame. Bucky was a boneless, sated mess who couldn’t move unless food or coffee was involved. It was utter bliss.

So the phone ringing was jarring, but not unexpected.

Fury was sending the quinjet, Pierce had been found, a full contingency of Hydra-for-hire security at his back. He was expecting trouble. Smart man.

“I took down his entire fleet of robots with one shot, I’m not worried.” Bucky said as they waited on the porch for Clint and Natasha to pick them up. He looked over at his Jeep, vowing to be back as soon as he could. He _would_ get to drive her again.

“One, you had no idea what the gun did, it was pure assery that it worked,” Steve laughed, ignoring Bucky’s noise of protest, “and two, are you talking to the Jeep in your head?”

“Of course not,” he snapped too quickly, enjoying Steve’s chuckle as he walked over to the shiny red vehicle, leaning over the hood in a parody of a hug, “he doesn’t get me like you do.”

“I can leave you two alone if you want?” Steve teased.

Bucky couldn’t help but drape himself a little more over the bonnet, basically presenting himself and suddenly Steve’s eyes went from teasing to desire in seconds. Bucky was never going to tire of the pure kick of want in his gut every time Steve looked at him like that.

“I’m sure we can include you - if you want.” Bucky replied saucily, adding it mentally to the long list of all the things he wanted to try with Steve.

Steve though, had stalked off the porch and as Bucky went to push himself up off the car, Steve pressed against his back tightly so he couldn’t move, bending over to nip at his ear.

“You teasing me sweetheart?”

Bucky yelped as Steve thrust against him, the metal of the bonnet digging into his front deliciously. _Jesus,_ their ride would be arriving in minutes and Bucky was putty in Steve’s hand. 

“Maybe,” he rasped as Steve licked filthily up his neck, _oh god_. He shouldn’t have pushed him.

Suddenly Steve was gone and Bucky had whiplash, from a deliciously promising pressure - to nothing at all. He threw out a steadying hand and winced when metal hit the car, he’d better not have scratched her.

The reason for Steve’s quick departure arrived less than ten seconds later, supersoldier hearing definitely good for an array of reasons. He hadn’t put public sex down on the list - there were just some things his team mates didn’t need to see. And being railed by Steve Rogers on his car bonnet was one of them. 

"Need a ride boys?" Natasha's sultry voice floated out the back of the quinjet as Steve and he jumped aboard, both giving her a warm hug. 

Steve made his way to Clint at the front and before Bucky could follow, she'd grabbed him by the arm.

"How you doing, Soldier?"

Bucky quirked his head, lip curling up on one side.

“Oh, please - too much information.” Natasha snapped with a look of disgust before he could speak.

Bucky laughed and followed her through to the others.

They were making one quick stop for Bruce on the way, he was in Portland scoping out a brewery he wanted to invest in. Bucky thought it oddly endearing the scientist with a side of ‘green envy’ would be interested in something as mundane as business. Though Bucky got it, he loved Portland too, might take the Jeep down for a look around. Would Steve be interested in joining him? Were they dating now? Or just fucking with a side of love? God, couldn’t anything about he and Steve just be simple?

“So where are we headed?” Bucky asked as Steve sidled closer and gave him a look. One he ignored, though it sent tingles up his spine. _Damn it Rogers_ , not the time.

“Bulgaria.” Natasha said as she fiddled with something on the controls, making Clint slap her hand away. Bucky thought he was the bravest man in the world.

“What’s he doing there? Fortifying his not-so secret lair, castle or at a beer festival?”

“Golf.”

“Golf?” Bucky questioned wryly, scooting surreptitiously to the left to avoid Steve’s wandering hands. He was going to kill him when they were alone, considering no one (except Natasha… always Natasha) knew about them.

“Yup.” Natasha replied, eyebrow raised at them, Steve didn’t notice, Bucky flushed red. Jesus, he was incorrigible _and_ oblivious. “He thinks he’s untouchable, so he’s not in hiding, he’s out whacking a ball with a stick instead of rallying all of his troops - _idiot_.”

Clearly Nat was not a fan of sports. Well, golf anyway, Bucky knew she was a closet UFC junkie.

“Tony, Thor, Sam and Scott will meet us there,” Clint said as he maneuvered the jet in position to grab Bruce, who jumped aboard looking relatively calm about things. Bucky knew he’d prefer to be sequestered away in the lab, solving the worlds’ biggest problems one experiment at a time, but he was handy in a fight. Something Bruce knew and when the chips were down, he always stepped up.

“Right, now we’re all here, I want to go over the plan.” Steve spoke over the chatter, and boy, that authoritative voice was doing things to Bucky and he baulked, not actually foreseeing this problem. And of course it _was_ going to be a problem. He couldn’t have Steve giving orders, being in charge, taking control; because he was going to be hard, painfully so, the whole time.

Steve must have noticed the stiffening in his shoulders if the self satisfied smirk was anything to go by and Bucky winced, knowing without words he’d outed himself as having a slight kink for Steve in power, though he thought it was painfully obvious. And not so slight.

“Bucky, we are going to have factions coming from land and sea. The golf course is on the water’s edge -”

“- Thracian Cliffs. That’s the clubs’ name.” Clint interrupted sounding excited, _he_ clearly was a fan of golf.

“Excellent. So we don’t know whether he has robots, supersoldiers or just his own private army of men. I’m going to need your sniper skills, watching our backs.” He pointed out where he would be placed, “any questions?” 

Bucky closed his eyes a second before shaking his head, feeling himself heat up from his core. Fuck this was going to be fun… not.

Steve continued to outline the operation parameters, speaking about the ins and outs of cover, stealth and even a balls out assault on Pierce if all else failed. Bucky didn’t like the thought of that, he’d seen how Steve disregarded his own safety on too many occasions. Sure Bucky would always have his six, but now that feelings, hell, his undying _love_ was involved, was he going to be able to hold his tongue? Guess he’d find out.

“So Pierce has made his base at the club? Does that mean he’s hired out the entire resort?” Bruce asked once Steve had finished.

“We think so, which means less civilians except for staff to deal with. We have no idea how affiliated he is with the golf course, or if he believes the openness will hinder our attempts at getting to him. To be honest we have no idea if he even realises we are gunning for him in the first place.”

“I mean, he has to know we are coming - otherwise why kit himself out with so much back-up. But, being there - so obviously, it doesn’t make sense. He should be in hiding, going underground until he gets his strength back. I mean, not going to lie, this worries me - what are we missing? A robot the size of Lady Liberty?” Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Well, we’ve done all the usual checks on properties and holdings of Hydra, what we know of, in any case. This property didn’t flag at all. But I agree - it seems off.”

“Maybe he just likes golf?” Bucky tried, liking the way Steve’s lips quirked slightly.

“We shouldn’t underestimate him.” Natasha said, “I’m going to do more digging about Pierce and his connections to Bulgaria.”

They left her to it and headed to the back of the quinjet, Bucky hearing the murmur of voices between she, Bruce, and Clint before the clacking of the computer keys filtered over to them.

Bucky headed straight for the weapons cache and began to sheath a multitude of knives into all the secret compartments of his tac gear. It would take a while, he may or may not have an obsession. Each blade had a spot, a story and deserved reverence and care.

“Jesus, how I didn’t realise you were the Winter Soldier before we did intel at the warehouse - I’ll never know.” Steve’s warm voice was close, closer than it should have been - Bucky took a reluctant step to the side, seeing Steve’s eyebrows draw together for a second, but he couldn’t exactly say ‘back up bud, or I might lick your face’.

“Why’s that?” He asked instead, raising a brow pointedly at the others who were not paying them any attention at all. Steve seemed to understand but moved closer again - _the chump._

“You’re so methodical in your placement and you have _way_ too many sharp objects on your body at any given time. I mean I watched you hide about ten, back at your apartment that night.”

“Thirty.”

“What.”

“I put thirty away.”

“But I counted-”

“-don’t underestimate my sneakiness.” Bucky retorted, fingers slipping up under Steve’s tac shirt, finding warm inviting skin, knowing the others couldn’t see what he was doing. Sneakiness indeed. Steve inhaled sharply, gazing at Bucky with an almost stunned soft look. Bucky loved it, loved him.

His fingers found the front of his pants and he tugged forward, making Steve throw a hand up to the jets wall to steady himself, and Bucky leaned in as close as he dared.

“Later. After we take Pierce down - you’re going to fuck my face, choke me with your cock and while you’re doing that, I’m going to fuck into you with my fingers...”

Steve’s entire body convulsed involuntarily, eyes hooded, and breaths coming in short and sharp.

“... using my metal hand.” Bucky finished.

Steve’s knees buckling as he went slack jawed with desire, absolutely worth the erection he’d given himself at his own damn words.

  
  
  


They arrived in Bulgaria with a muted flurry, Tony regaling them with stories about how, over the last few days, he'd single handedly managed to convert robots they'd taken from the warehouse to aid SHIELD in their quest to bring Hydra down.

Bucky smirked when he heard JARVIS correcting him that it was actually a team effort, while Tony yelled 'volume mute' a hundred times. He had no idea how an AI could sound smug, but JARVIS managed it. He liked JARVIS.

The other team had only been on the ground half an hour, but they’d already scoped out the golf course, marking down weaknesses and possible ways in, though so far there were no signs of any back-up - just Pierce. Steve immediately went into strategy mode and Bucky held his breath at how competent and in control he was of the situation. Amongst all of his Steve related kinks - he was starting to believe the biggest one was competence. Hopefully _Steve’s_ biggest kink was sappy ex-army snipers with an obsession for apricot scented detangling products.

It was decided that Bucky would stake himself out on top of one of the cliffs, facing down towards the ninth hole, that had clear visuals across the rest of the course. The quinjet in stealth mode would hover over the sea, Tony and Thor would come from the air on the opposite side, and the rest would tackle it from the ground. It felt like overkill, but if the unexpected happened, then they were as prepared as they could be.

The one thing Bucky didn’t count on, was how absolutely breathtaking Bulgaria would be, and the golf club was extraordinary, nestled on an array of cliff faces straight out of a holiday brochure. But, he reasoned, people _did_ holiday there, the resort had everything on offer - including weddings. He glanced at Steve, having absolutely no idea why he suddenly envisioned him in a black tux, dewy eyed as Bucky walked towards him in an equally dark tux (knives hidden in the line of the jacket and pants). Yes, he had _no_ idea why he pictured that scene. His brain was clearly working about three years into the future.

They waited until Pierce had taken himself to the first hole, surprisingly alone with only a caddy, who looked entirely human, non threatening and could pick a club like a pro (which was his job really) before everyone moved into position. They were going to ambush him on the ninth hole as it had the best offensive positioning. Steve grasped Bucky’s shoulder tight and squeezed before leaning in to whisper for him to be careful. Bucky, noticing all the others had turned away, shifted his head to the side, capturing Steve’s lips in a soft sweet barely there press, before tapping him on the hip with a smile.

Steve took the longest time to move, eyes flicking over every feature on his face as Bucky covered it with the mask and goggles. He was fairly certain Steve was just as enamoured as he was, and thank fuck - it would be awfully disappointing if he were the only one drowning in want.

“You good with the plan?” Steve asked before he followed Natasha.

“Yep, confirm.” He replied, leaving a small amount of smart ass in his tone. 

“Have you got that toon robot car’s voice modulator? That show you were watching at the cabin?”

“Oh, you mean Optimus Prime?” He asked sweetly. He’d made Steve watch a few episodes of Transformers _after_ Marvin the Martian. The only thing Tony had done for him with minimal grumbling was add the voice to his mask - he loved it. 

“I _guess_ that’s who I mean?”

“I’m crushed you don’t remember his name.”

“You’re -”

“- Cap - you coming?” Clint yelled out, startling them both. Maybe working on operations together wasn’t a stellar idea. They were extremely distractible.

“Yep,” He called out, then looked back at Bucky, eyes softening and Bucky melted, he was a dope with heart eyes, “Buck you sure that you’re okay with everything today - I don’t want to face your wrath again. Unless it ends up in another handjob - then by all means, wrath away.”

Bucky chuckled, liking how Steve’s eyes crinkled in return before he placed his own cowl over his face. “You're my commanding officer, so of course. Just don’t throw yourself onto any bombs and we’re good. Plus - being told what to do, being given orders - gets me fuckin’ hard.”

Steve's eyes widened, “Jesus, you can't just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because… just…”

“Aww, Cap are you blushing?”

“Fuck, you’re a jerk. Lucky you’re a good looking one. Let’s go.”

“Avengers, roll out.” Bucky yelled into the comms, hearing a few catcalls and Clint’s ‘I love Optimus’.

Steve gave him a withering look, but it was fond and Bucky hid his smirk as he followed Steve, eyes glued to a very firm ass as it swayed with each step. Damn, they’d better get out of this quickly so he could go have the greatest sex of his life.

Minutes later he was lying on his stomach, looking through the scope to see if he could spy anything that looked out of place on the ninth hole. He saw nothing of interest, which in effect was interesting in itself. What was Pierce’s battle plan here?

What it was, was nothing in the end.

When Steve and the rest of the Avengers appeared to him just as he sliced a ball directly towards the sea (which ended up hitting the quinjet’s front window, he bet Pierce wouldn’t be able to do that again if he tried) he looked shocked for all of three seconds, before an eerily calm demeanor took over and he made a quick phone call before allowing himself to be taken. Quietly.

There were no explosions, supersoldiers, robots. Nary a gun in sight. Bucky twisted every which way, looking through the Starktech scope on his rifle, but saw absolutely no sign of anything amiss. The golf course did not open up to reveal helicarriers full of bombs, robots didn’t fall out of the sky and Pierce, was just looking up at Captain America, who Bucky knew was giving his stern, ‘I’m disappointed in you’ spiel, with a look of… abject fondness - what?

Bucky looked back through the scope, and noticed he was the only one, other than Steve, who was watching Pierce. The rest of the team were still on high alert, expecting some form of battle. And Pierce only had eyes for Steve. That pissed Bucky off to no end.

“Watch yourself, Cap.” He snapped into the comm, not sure why his ire was firing full blast.

He saw Steve flinch a little at the words, because he was still mid-sentence with Pierce. Steve's comm was obviously only receiving as Bucky couldn’t hear what he was saying to the older man.

“What’s up?” Natasha asked.

“Pierce, the way he’s looking at Cap - it’s not right.”

“Jealous, Soldier?”

Bucky spluttered, what the hell? She wasn’t supposed to say anything or even allude to it. She'd promised. Natasha's chuckle over the line and lack of response from either Clint or Sam, made him realise she’d switched the comm to private, the sneaky so-and-so.

“You’re a -”

“- don’t finish that sentence if you want your dick exactly where you like it.”

“What? In Steve’s mouth?”

And he really shouldn’t have, but the growl from Natasha and the clipped string of Russian, which he could speak, was totally worth it. Although some of the phrases she was spouting he’d have to learn - they sounded nasty - he had a burning need to use them in conversation.

“Keep your guards up everyone, but we’re done here. Let’s take Pierce back to the Tower for Fury’s interrogation.” Steve’s voice finally came through Bucky’s ear.

He took another long sweeping look around, where was this back-up Pierce was supposed to have? Was this a case of capturing the Avengers’ attention with one hand, while the other was pulling the trick? Bucky remained tense and alert for the whole trip back.

  
  


Fury announced he’d be doing the interrogation alone, with just Natasha’s specialist aid, much to Steves’ annoyance. Although at Fury’s withering look, he relented, and Bucky was impressed how one eye could do that. If he wasn’t scared out of his pants of the SHIELD leader, he might have asked him what his motivation and tricks were to keep Steve from arguing.

Pierce didn’t give a lot away, but after two days, a few key elements of his plans slipped out, including the whereabouts of two Hydra safe houses. And this information was only made available once Fury reluctantly requested Steve to join the interrogation - at Pierce's insistence. 

Bucky was still concerned they were being fed a line, and also concerned at Pierce’s apparent obsession with Steve, but so far no other major incidents by Hydra had occurred. It was quiet, eerily so. SHIELD were on their toes though, ready and expecting a threat.

Fury decided to create a new strike team to hunt down and dismantle all factions of Hydra that still existed, and Bucky was on it. He was glad. Sitting around the Tower doing nothing while his nerves jangled from unresolved anticipation of a fight that never happened wasn’t great for his disposition. Steve fucking him into his mattress every single night (and morning, and occasionally in the afternoons) helped. But he was still on edge.

Steve entered the apartment after his latest session with Pierce and Fury looking a little peaky, flushed and slightly out of it, his thoughts clearly a million miles away. 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked, worried when Steve flushed further and scratched the back of his head, _oh-oh._

“Oh, um…” he trailed off, then shrugged helplessly, “today was weird, I have no idea what Pierce’s angle is, but yeah - today things definitely got strange.”

“How so?” Bucky asked, straightening up on the couch, ready to pounce, ready to run down to the holding rooms and beat Pierce bloody if necessary.

“He, uh, he said his faction of Hydra was built _for_ me.”

Bucky blinked a few times, letting that sink in, it didn’t. “Hydra was built _for_ you?” he parroted back.

“Not the whole thing, but the part he was building.” Steve sat heavily next to him, thigh pressing against Bucky as if he just needed to touch him. Bucky pushed back, Steve relaxed further, “Pierce was a big fan of Captain America, from before.”

“Before?”

“Yeah, I mean..” he looked shy and Bucky knew he hated to talk about the missing seventy or so years between when he went into the ice to when he woke up and how the world had herofied him onto a pedestal. Bucky knew better though - Steve was an absolute shit. “He was obsessed with my story, the serum, who I was and I guess somehow - when I woke up, he decided that he had to have me.”

“What?” Bucky all but roared.

“Oh, shit - not like that… I mean - Christ - I hope not like that. I mean he had to have my power, my strength - you know, at his beck and call. When he realised SHIELD were never going to allow him to head up the Avengers initiative therefore controlling me, he started to go rogue.”

“Okay…” Bucky nodded his head, it made sense. “I mean I didn’t know Pierce at all from before. But from what I’ve read up and learnt in the last few weeks, he’s attracted to power, being in charge. I mean he was so arrogant to think he wouldn’t be captured that he was playing golf, alone.”

“Yeah, I guess. But it weirds me out that he somehow got blood samples, and started to create his own soldiers. He also stole Dr Dooms early robot schematics from the SHIELD vaults to try and replicate them. Shit, Buck he talked about how he wanted me to take over Hydra, be someone else, the Hydra Supreme.”

“Well, not going to lie - that sounds like a pizza. And he probably was crushing on you his entire life to get this way.”

Bucky liked the shocked look Steve bestowed on him, he was cute when indignant.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, there is no _way_ he had a crush on me.” He shivered and Bucky smirked, hooking his leg over Steve’s knee and settling back into the couch.

“Steve, you have to know, I mean you’re not stupid, but everyone’s had a crush on you.”

“What?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I mean everyone at some point had a hard-on for all of that red, white and blue. And _damn_ those stealth suits, they make a grown man weep - and think wildly inappropriate thoughts.”

“You’re joking.” Steve did not sound amused.

“About the suit, no. I was just one of many who craved you from afar.”

“Buck…” Steve said softly.

“Pining after you, watching you - wanting you.” He pushed himself up and slid closer, his leg pulling so it spread Steve’s knees wide and his blue eyes glazed over as Bucky cupped him through his pants. For all that Steve was in control, he really got off when Bucky was being a shit and pushing his buttons. He’d allow him to take it to a certain degree, then he’d spin him around and pound into him relentlessly. Which was, to be honest, always Bucky’s endgame.

“Shit, I don’t care about anyone else, just you and who _you_ were crushing on.” Steve’s voice rose at the end as Bucky squeezed his growing hardness, hand slipping inside his pants easily. The responding groan as Steve let his head fall to the back of the couch, gratifying, as Bucky began to tug his prick, slowly, languidly.

“Oh, you weren’t my first or only crush.” Bucky continued coyly.

“What?” Steve sounded put out, so Bucky began to stroke him harder, the underwear constricting his movements but making it tighter. The friction had Steve writhing after a moment and Bucky adored the fact he could do this, have Steve trust him enough with his pleasure. Plus his cock was utterly delectable.

“I mean, Natasha obviously,” Bucky didn’t mention he was lying and that she was like a sister to him _and_ he liked his hands unbroken, including the metal one. Steve though, looked stricken. Bucky tightened his grip and sped up his strokes, making Steve torn between listening to his words or letting himself go and lose himself in the feeling of Bucky’s hand twisting and tensing around his prick. Bringing him to the edge of orgasm.

“And Bruce, you know that whole silent nerdy scientist thing - it’s hot, and with those dark curls...”

Steve reared up, grabbing him by the back of his neck, a spark of possessiveness in his eyes as he held Bucky's face near his, breathing in each other's air as Bucky pulsed his grip on Steve's cock, going faster, then slow, driving Steve to distraction. God he loved taking him apart.

“Don’t even get me started on Tony…”

A smile broke through, “alright you cretin, now I know you’re screwing with me.”

“I would never,” Bucky’s smile was a mile long, and he suddenly began to jack harder, enjoying the way Steve’s entire body twitched as he continued to pump his cock unrelentingly. He really needed lube, but Steve's pre-come was working a treat if Steve’s long lashes fluttering shut in ecstasy were any indication.

“Yeah,” he breathed out before gasping, “you would never consider Tony.”

“You’re right - I almost shuddered when saying his name. I should have gone with Thor.” Steve managed to look at him through hooded, blown eyes, “I mean he’s huge, blonde, mysterious… exactly my type apparently.”

Steve grabbed him forward, _finally_ into a searing kiss, tongue delving deep, filling Bucky’s mouth deliciously. Jeez, he could die from his kisses alone.

“But you know,” Bucky said breathlessly as he pulled back, hand wrapped around Steve, loving how he drew deep pants and grunts from his chest, “it was a small blonde jerk who really captured my attention. Sorry Cap - but compared to my Stevie you just don’t measure up.”

Bucky doubled down, jerking Steve quick and hard until he came with an aborted shout, making a complete mess of his pants. Bucky removed his hand and licked off what he could. Fuck he adored the taste of Steve.

A second later he realised Steve still hadn’t said anything and he looked up and caught his eyes. Steve was panting heavily but there was something in his expression that caught Bucky off guard.

“You alright?”

Steve slumped slightly, mouth opening and closing a few times yet still nothing came out, and all of a sudden Bucky recalled his words, _shit_ , he really should have thought about what he’d said in the heat of the moment. They’d not really spoken about it in length yet, no time with all the missions and, to be honest, _fucking_ , unrepentantdly.

“Crap, Steve, I didn’t mean it like that. As if I don’t find you, now, attractive. _Jesus_ , you’d have to be living on a different continent and not speak English to know, and let’s be honest, even then, I’m sure they’d work it out.”

Steve took in a breath and Bucky berated himself on being so offhand. Sure - _he_ was over the fact of how unorthodox getting together had been, but clearly Steve was still holding guilt. 

“Yeah, I know you do, but what you felt for Grant was different, I mean, I know I’m him - but… _I_ was different then, I wasn’t this, this isn’t who you fell for - _fuck_. I’m sorry.”

Bucky pulled Steve’s face close and gave him a lingering soft kiss, lips moving over his sweetly, pouring everything into it, all of his feelings, all of his love, before pulling back and resting his forehead on Steve’s. “How don’t you realise that he _is_ you, there is absolutely no difference except the pure physical size between you. Your heart is huge, your passion, your morals, _god,_ your fight and spark for righting the injustices of the world. I fell in love with _Steven Grant Rogers_ and guess who you are bud?”

Steve’s eyes were huge, wide as he looked deeply into Bucky’s, only inches between them.

“That’s,” he began, shutting his eyes for a second, before opening them again, blue sparkling, “that’s the first time you’ve said it.”

“What?” Bucky frowned. He was certain he’d told Steve he was amazing a million times before and how lucky he was.

“That you love me.”

Bucky stalled, watching Steve’s face all lit up in happiness, in love. Hadn’t he? He swore he had, _oh_ , thinking back, he realised he hadn’t. Not in so many words at any rate. No wonder Steve had been concerned, worried.

He leaned back and grabbed Steve’s face between his hands, one metal, one flesh and squeezed, making Steve’s lips pucker like a fish, he frowned in return - annoyed.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin, it was fun annoying Steve. He thought he could actually make a living off of it, something to think about. He was certain he could draft up a reasonable business outline and have Tony back it. 

Loosening his grip he leant back in and left a barrage of hot wet kisses on Steve’s lips, until they were both gasping for breath once again.

“I love you so much, endlessly. No one even comes close to what I feel for you - not even Thor. I didn’t spend the last year of my life pining after you just to fall in love and shrug it off as a faze. You’re stuck with me - I hope you know that?”

Steve’s face turned into pure sunshine, bright happy and _fuck_ \- the returning love pouring from his eyes was making Bucky’s knees weak. Luckily he was sitting down.

“Love you too - like you wouldn’t believe.”

“More than Pierce loves you?”

“No. Just no.” Steve jumped up and walked away, presumably to the bedroom to change out of his soiled pants.

“Come on - it’s a joke.”

“Too soon.” Steve called over his shoulder.

Bucky sat on the couch chuckling to himself until he looked up to see a naked Steve before him.

Cocking his head Steve asked, “you coming? I feel like you need to be punished for insubordination.”

Bucky almost pulled a hamstring with how fast he flew off the couch.

  
  


Two days later, Hydra struck. He _knew_ Pierce had a back up plan. Knew it in his bones.

As smoke, explosions and haze left the Tower and the surrounding buildings almost toppling sideways (thankfully evacuated, Wanda and Pietro invaluable in clearing them) Bucky was taking out enemies on the ground. They kept coming, they were relentless and they were after one thing.

Steve.

The very idiot who was front and centre, not even _trying_ to shield himself from the brutal assault. Bucky was slowly making his way to where he fought against men and machines in full star-spangled regalia. They’d lost their comms early on, scrambled and useless, so Bucky had no idea where the others were - he only had eyes on his Captain. And it was not looking great. 

Bucky slammed into anything that looked hostile, blades flashing brilliantly in the sunlight, slicing and stabbing robots and disarming and knocking out men with his arm. He knew by the sharp Russian words being yelled at him, Nat was nearby and saw he was losing control, losing focus and only had one goal in mind. Reach Steve.

Looking up at a noise, Bucky saw what looked like a version of a SHIELD quinjet begin to circulate, right above where Steve was fighting; his patriotic shield flying every which way. He didn’t notice the plane, of course he didn’t, because Steve was an imbecile who only saw the fight before him, throwing himself into the fray with no thoughts to anything else. And only if, _if_ he noticed he was in deeper strife than originally seen - would he counteract, and generally that was too late or created poor choices.

Like now.

Steve was too busy with the barrage before him to even know there was a threat coming from above. Bucky watched as he made his way through a throng of robots, that the back hatch had opened and a handful of kitted out men waited on the edge, clearly hanging back to get the drop on Steve. Whether they were literally going to drop on Steve or if they were going to somehow attempt and grab him, Bucky didn’t know. All he knew was that he had about a ten second window in which to act and he was still too far away.

Running at full speed towards Steve’s position, who, of course, was now completely surrounded, Bucky realised Hydra had planned it this way - keeping the rest of the Avengers busy while they cut Steve off from help. The major fault in their plan though - they hadn’t expected the Winter Soldier to be watching his Cap so closely. The jet hovered lower, the people in the back bracing themselves for a battle and Bucky knew exactly what he had to do.

He sprinted, ran like nothing was hindering him, like no-one was in his way. Which there was. Lots of people _and_ machines actually. There was too much between him and Steve - _shit._

But a red winged form swooped in, and suddenly Falcon was beside him, clearing the way best he could, somehow realising without the use of their comms what was happening and that Bucky had a plan. Bucky resolved he was going to make an effort with his team mate, Sam. He had a feeling their sense of humour would align. He snapped his concentration back to the moment, realising now wasn’t the time to consider fostering friendships.

Falcon could only give him less than a five second reprieve before he was shot down, not hurt, but he was out of the sky and on his feet fighting hand to hand immediately.

“Shield down.” Bucky yelled.

Steve looked up, eyes wide, clearly hearing the hoarse words which left Bucky’s throat. And even though he had a mountain of people around him and was almost overwhelmed, Steve understood and dropped to his knee, shield swinging around and up on his back and Bucky charged straight ahead, jumping at the last second, boot landing on Steve’s shield as he leveraged to push off it, up into the air - grasping the edge of the jet’s platform at the back. Half a second later he’d swung up in one motion and stood right in front of four stunned Hydra operatives - in the back of their own plane.

The fight was brutal, quick and they never had a chance against the wrath of the Winter Soldier, especially when they’d been threatening something that was his. Steve. Apparently abject possessiveness made him a better fighter.

The quinjet was still circling as the pilot hadn’t even realised what had transpired behind him, and when he finally called over his shoulder to his comrades, all he saw was the Winter Soldier with a flash bomb in his hand - which he threw directly at his feet.

Bucky ran to the edge, jumping out, just as the flash went off and as he fell, the quinjet began to spiral, before crashing a hundred metres away. There were no Hollywood explosions, it was just down, smoke billowing from the base. Bucky knew the pilot and the operatives in the back would be stunned (or still knocked out) and hopefully if SHIELD had enough back-up, they would be picked up and taken into holding.

He landed with an aborted ‘oomf’ on a man who was just about to lunge at Steve and if his metal elbow smashed his face so his nose erupted in blood in recourse, then so be it.

Then he was on his feet and at Steve's side within seconds. Steve and he fought, back to back, using the shield and his knives to take out all enemies, until they were heaving in breaths of air, sweating and exhausted, with no Hydra agents left to fight. It took hours.

Bucky looked over at Steve, who glanced back, and without a second thought, ripped off the lower face mask pushing his goggles onto his head and stalked towards him.

He slammed into Steve, grasping the back of his head and kissing him soundly, desperately, with every fibre in his being. They were safe, Hydra were down and he knew they’d spend the next few months, years even of their life rooting out all factions, dismantling them.

As Steve’s tongue pushed into his mouth he heard cheering, and reluctantly moved his head back, the corners of Steve’s eyes crinkling in pure unadulterated happiness as he grinned at him.

Bucky looked over to see the entire back catalogue of Avengers, watching them, whooping, laughing and clapping, all in varying degrees of beaten up and exhausted. Guess they’d outed themselves to the team. He didn’t give a shit.

“You okay with this?” Bucky whispered, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Absolutely. I want the whole world to know you’re mine.” Steve said as he nipped at Bucky’s lips again. They were both so sweaty and gross from the unending fight, but neither cared.

Bucky chuckled against his mouth, adoring the way he could be this close, “maybe we just start with these guys.”

“Whatever you want, I’m all in.”

He couldn’t help grab Steve again, deepening the kiss, hearing Natasha tell the rest of them to give them space, as she knew first hand how disgusting they could be. Bucky smiled into the kiss, feeling Steve’s returning grin. 

He was all in too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the main story wrapped up for these boys! I really hope you've enjoyed their journey and where they ended up (well, so far).
> 
> All that's left now is an epilouge ;)
> 
> Just quietly though... I do have quite a fair bit of Steve's POV through pivitol moments written, so if you're interested that will be available soon!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is - the epilogue (or more commonly known as gratuitous porn or the happy ending)...

It had been seven months, seven of the most spectacular months of Bucky’s life, and he was fairly certain of Steve’s too. It hadn’t been smooth sailing, not at all, and they were still working out kinks (and not the fun ones - though there was plenty of that too).  _ No _ , two grown ass, extremely stubborn set in their ways men, were always going to have a few hiccups on the way to happily ever after. But damn, it had been fun so far and Bucky had never been happier. 

Sure some people might have thought the way Steve and he met, fell in love then consumated said love - prior to the love happening and Bucky having no idea who Steve was, may have been unorthodox - but he couldn’t complain that they had a boring courtship. 

Plus, Steve had well and truly made up for his omission and any perceived heartbreak he may have inflicted on Bucky, by being quite frankly the most attentive boyfriend - ever. Never mind that he was still the biggest shit to have ever walked the planet, and pushed not only Bucky’s buttons on everyday things like whose turn it was to do the dishes or jumping out of a plane without a parachute, but also the rest of the team. He was learning that although Captain America was a bonafide hero, he'd pissed off almost every Avenger at some point. 

Bucky loved him desperately for it.

He’d taken Tony up on his offer of apartments at the Tower, and not so reluctantly as he’d initially thought. The decision was made easier as Tony had started to date Pepper Potts and his wild obscene behaviour was waning in the light of his obsession with being the best version of himself. But Bucky still maintained he was only there short term, just until he sorted out a new apartment that was secure, he was an Avenger now after all. His and Steve’s civilian identities somehow managed to stay under wraps, so they were able to lead a relatively normal life, except the fact Steve was built like a brick wall and garnered many appraising looks everywhere they went (getting coffee was a nightmare some days). But Steve fired back, Bucky got just as many glances, which he shrugged off; he didn’t care what anyone else thought - just his Stevie.

Bucky was probably also dragging his heels a little on looking for a new apartment because it was damn handy having Steve at his beck and call almost 24/7 and in the past seven months they’d only spent a handful of nights apart. It was nice, it was domestic - it was everything Bucky had been looking for but hadn’t realised.

Bucky was honestly living his best life.

He’d just finished making his infamous New York Cheesecake, something of a treat for Steve who should have returned from his latest operation earlier that day and be in debrief, when he heard a sharp rap at the apartment door. It had to be Scott or Bruce, as the rest of the Avengers just barged in, or were already sitting on the lounge watching Netflix when Bucky or Steve walked in. It was disconcerting, but also like living with a bunch of siblings. He couldn’t believe he was going to admit to Becca that he missed her unobtrusive sister-ship.

Walking through the apartment, he wiped his hands on his sweats and swung open the door. What he saw stunned him into stupidity. No words or sound left his body.

Before him stood Steve, but not Captain America Steve - but  _ his _ Stevie, the one he’d fallen in love with first. The tiny figure in the door taking Bucky’s breath away. He’d forgotten how slight and utterly gorgeous Steve had been.

“So, are you going to fucking stand there staring, or are you letting me in?”

And yep, he was still an asshole. Bucky’s heart burst.

But making his body move was almost impossible, he was absolutely dumbfounded. His hungry gaze raked up and down Steve’s body, like he would vanish in a puff of smoke if Bucky allowed his eyes to roam off his form for a second. At Steve’s impatient huff, he couldn’t help wonder if it was his size which fostered such ire, because Steve wasn’t usually this worked up or obstinate.

“What the hell, Steve?” Bucky began, then faltered, watching, staring and devouring his heart's desire. “I… I really don’t understand?”

“Well…” Steve rubbed a hand over his neck, the familiar gesture endearing as he looked up at Bucky, his face slightly reddened and looking somewhat contrite. Christ he was breathtaking. “So I was in the lab with Bruce and Tony after the op today, and let's just say they’ve been working on something, not for this particular use, but there was an accident - Tony, well actually it doesn’t matter. Let’s just say human trials were not supposed to be on the cards.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky demanded, not liking the idea of Steve being involved in  _ any _ scientific trials ever again - even if he did end up with a package of deliciousness at his front door.

“Yeah, Natasha  _ may _ have found quite a few things from Pierce’s private computer - things that didn't make it to Fury.” He held a hand up at Bucky’s spluttering, “and Bruce and Tony have been looking at a few of his more scientific files as well.” 

“Don’t tell me they made a fucking raygun? Steve that thing hurt you, put you through hell with the cramps and pain and the unknown and-”

“-oh no they didn’t. Christ - this is something different, completely - but…” he threw his bony arms out adorably, “same result.”

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed, body wavering on the cusp of falling forward but unsure about how Steve was feeling about this all. Was he worried, confused or did he even want Bucky’s touch or was he feeling completely discombobulated again? He realised his hand had reached out without his knowledge, but he dropped it at the last minute, noticing Steve’s face screw up unhappily at his aborted gesture. “Sorry, do you mind? Can I touch you?” 

Steve let out a huge exaggerated sigh, “if you don’t, pal - I’m going to be really freaking irritated.”

Bucky chuckled, hands eagerly pulling Steve forward, tucking him to his chest; forgetting how much he’d missed this, how light he was, how he fit just so. He had perfection in his grasp and god, he was about to cry, felt the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He fucking loved Steve the way he usually was, large - but there was something special, something different about having the smaller version of him right before him, in his arms. Knowing exactly who he held.

Bucky tilted Steve’s chin up and captured his lips in the softest most reverent of kisses. He vibrated from within at the small growl erupting deep in Steve’s throat.

But Steve pulled back from Bucky and gestured behind him, “can we maybe take this inside - not gonna lie - I’m feeling vulnerable out here.”

“You’re safe in the tower.”

“Yeah I know, but if I see Tony again and hear something about a Polly Pocket house - I am going to kill him.”

Bucky chuckled and dropped his arms reluctantly, but tangled his fingers in Steve’s, walking them to the lounge room, he wanted nothing more than to wrap him up again and never let go, but he was still completely stunned that this was happening.

“How long are you like this for?” Bucky wasn’t naive enough to assume he was smaller forever, though there was a part of him which wouldn’t have minded.

“I don’t know. Bruce thinks maybe a few hours…” Steve dropped his gaze, before he glanced back up gripping Bucky’s in a confident cocky and definitely commanding way. It went straight to Bucky’s dick. “So if you want to... you know. We’d best get on with it.”

Bucky threw his head back and roared in laughter, absolutely delighted. “Really? Your first thought when your body gets completely remade is to have sex with me?”

“Of course it is - jesus, Buck. Best sex of my damn life.”

“Well then…” Bucky breathed as Steve’s hand slid down the front of his sweats to cup his very interested cock, making the decision a no brainer.

He allowed Steve to drag his head down into a filthy open-mouthed kiss, and Bucky was in bliss, sparks firing down his spine as Steve’s lips moved over his mouth, before trailing to his jaw, licking, tasting, biting to stake a claim.

“God I missed this, didn’t realise how much…” he muttered as Steve’s fingers made their way into his pants.

“Yeah, same here sweetheart - I loved how I felt when with you back then, not that I don’t feel that normally but…” he trailed off, and grasped the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt to pull it off, going onto his tiptoes to finish the movement and Bucky just about died from giddiness.

“...but it’s just different.” Bucky finished for him as Steve’s eyes roamed over his chest, like he was seeing it for the first time all over again.

“You look so good, Buck, still the same but the perception is so unreal from here. God I love you.” 

Then before Bucky could respond, Steve pinched a nipple and his knees buckled, the sexy deep chuckle in response had his dick twitching. Then lips, teasing, sucking, exploring littered kisses across his naked torso, lathing him until Bucky was a trembling mess of a human barely able to think, he was all sensations.

Suddenly his sweats were pulled from his hips, down his legs and he barely managed a confused grumble as Steve walked around him before a sharp inhale filtered into his brain.

“Oh, sweetheart, you  _ were _ waiting for me. What a treat.”

It took Bucky too long to understand what was making Steve hum appreciatively, until he felt the lightest tug on the rim of his ass. Oh shit - in light of seeing Steve all gorgeously packaged up before him, he’d completely forgotten his ‘surprise’.

“This plug fill you up baby?” Steve asked as his deft fingers prodded around the toy firmly entrenched in Bucky’s body and he whimpered at the deep pull within him at the featherlight touches. Jesus.

“Not… oh god…” Bucky threw his head back as Steve stood behind him, grinding his crotch up into his ass, pushing the plug in against him. “Not as good as you do.”

Steve hummed in approval, “well this changes things slightly,” he murmured before leaving Bucky alone, sweats pooled around his ankles, cock bobbing into the air of the living room, bereft of touch and pining for his Steve who -

“What are you doing?” He rasped, watching as Steve grabbed their huge ottoman and dragged it to the plate glass window.

“I’m setting you up, going to show you off.”

Bucky’s heartbeat ratcheted into the stratosphere, desire punched him in the gut, “you do know you can’t see in here from outside?”

“Of course, but isn’t it deliclous to think the people just over there  _ might _ be able to see you, spread out on the ottoman as I fuck you hard?”

Bucky’s knees buckled for the second time in ten minutes.

“Now be a good boy and get up on the ottoman… no, on your knees - facing the window.”

He flushed red, in want and also a small modicum of embarrassment, he  _ knew _ the office building across from him couldn’t see into Tony’s tower, but _ he _ could see people walking around the office, it wasn’t too close, but his eyesight was good, above average. It was extremely hot and pushed something inside of him towards the precipice of losing control more than anything ever had. Did he have a bit of a voyeuristic kink? If so, would Steve be willing and able to assist in exploring said kink? He had an inkling he would be a very willing participant.

Steve’s hand grasped his hair and tugged back the moment Bucky positioned himself on the soft cushioning, eliciting a long pleased sigh from deep within. Face close to the window, enough that he felt the late afternoon sun filter through, he watched as a tall brunette in a pant’s suit photocopy something and his cock jerked.

He wriggled to get comfy, the plug tight and full in his ass. He’d put it in two hours earlier, knowing Steve would appreciate not having to prep him as they’d not seen each other in two weeks. Steve had been on an operation in the Philippines, and Bucky knew neither of them could wait. He was correct - but he hadn’t expected the gift he’d been given. His Stevie, returned if only for a few hours.

Bucky finally noticed that Steve had ordered him onto the ottoman but had yet to touch him. He looked over his shoulder and saw stars. Steve was directly behind him, shirt off, his lithe chest achingly familiar and moving rapidly in short hungry breaths. But he only had eyes for Bucky’s ass.

Steve reached out, fingers trailing over the curve, lightly testing the stretch and Bucky sucked in a breath and looked back to his would be audience. The tall brunette was now chatting to a redhead, laughing about something when the first wet lap of his hole zinged through his body.

He tried to move forward out of instinct, but had nowhere to go, Steve wouldn’t let him anyway. How had he forgotten the feel of skinny fingers digging into his hips, or the sharp yet soft tongue teasing around the plug? Bucky lit up from the inside letting out a strangled moan as Steve lapped around the toy, trying to push in beside it, but it was too much.

“Love your tongue so much Stevie. Fuck...”

Steve licked down to his balls before back up and over the plug, moving off for a moment, making Bucky whine,  _ he fucking whined. _ The chuckle from Steve, burning his face red. It wasn’t like he’d never begged before, had done on many occasions. But this was different, this was special and he couldn’t quite get control of himself.

Steve began to play with the plug, pushing it in until it was on the cusp of pain before pulling it out, stretching him as he teased with small pulses, before pushing back in again. He was fucking Bucky with it, and he loved every second.

“Do you think those women over there would like this, watching me fuck into you with your own plug?”

Bucky whimpered, watching the two women, not able to stop thinking about them turning their eyes his way and suddenly somehow seeing through the privacy glass to observe Bucky, a sweaty writhing whimpering mess begging for Steve’s cock, begging for release. Yeah, he was totally going to look into this kink.

“Would they watch as I licked all around, wetting you up, ready to slip my cock inside and take you, pound into you until you hit the glass, until you shatter and come around me begging for me to stop?”

“Fu… Fuck… I need… I want…” Bucky couldn’t get the words out. He was on the edge of orgasm and Steve still had his damn pants on.

Steve pulled the plug slowly, making Bucky’s fists grip what he could of the leather ottoman, as the thickest part began to stretch his hole deliciously. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you.”

Bucky nodded halfway out of his brain as he felt the toy slip out of him; the relief was short lived because a second later Steve’s cock pushed in - to the hilt in one fell (amazing) movement.

Throwing his head back in ecstacy only gave Steve leverage to grasp his hair lightly, “do not,  _ ever _ cut your hair.” Steve rasped out as he ground deep into Bucky’s ass.

He shook his head in response, knowing it would tug further, Steve’s laugh suggesting he knew exactly what Bucky was trying to do. “Masochist…”

Glancing back over his shoulder he almost came on the spot. Steve was kneeling up behind him, chest flushed red in a way his large body could never quite duplicate and face twisted in pleasure. Bucky sighed deeply and ground back, in his happy place. Hell, it was his  _ everything _ place.

Steve showed no mercy, pushing and fucking into him relentlesly, just like he always did, but the thighs pushed up against Bucky’s were not as huge and the hands which raked up and down his back not quite the normal size. Then Steve threw himself into it, screwing with his entire body. The ottoman bumping towards the window ever so slowly as he let loose.

“God, you feel perfect around me, so damn perfect - every time.” Steve punctuated each word with a thrust and Bucky trembled on his elbows, loving this, not quite believing it wasn’t a dream. Then with a warning shout and a battering of thrusts, Steve came deep inside of him and Bucky clenched tightly around Steve’s cock, not wanting to let go, not yet.

But he didn’t have a choice.

The moment Steve calmed down he withdrew and spun Bucky so he was on his back, pushing him up on the ottoman so his head was over the side and he could see the office building upside down, blood rushing into his temples.  _ Oh. _

Steve gulped him down, gripping his cock tightly, sucking, nuzzling and licking all over before deep throating him - tongue thick on the side of him and Bucky with slight dizziness arched up, hearing Steve choke slightly. Nothing had changed there.

Thin fingers gripped him, holding his hips down to stop him bucking upwards, and that right there is what undid him. He came with a shout, lightheaded, fuzzy, and in absolute bliss.

He only vaguely heard Steve telling him he was ‘the best’ and he was ‘so good’ before being pulled up onto the ottoman and engulfed in a Stevie sized hug.

“I love you,” he mumbled, enjoying the kiss to his temple and the mumbled reply in kind.

  
  


He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he awoke in his bed cleaned up with Steve next to him, wrapped around his body. Captain America Steve - his little ray of sunshine had changed back into the light of his life. He wasn’t disappointed, not really - he had everything he’d ever wanted right here - anything else was a bonus.

It wasn’t long before Steve came back into consciousness, snuggling into the back of Bucky, burrowing in enough to make him chuckle.

“It’s early…” Steve then hesitated, his voice taking on a softer tone, “...and I’m back.”

Bucky didn’t mishear the longing in his voice, wondering for a moment why Steve seemed despondent at being returned to his now normal state. Then it dawned on him, surely Steve still didn’t think... 

"You do know you didn't have to do this, I know you said changing back to the pre-serum you wasn't intentional - but I have an inkling it may have been - just a little bit." He was just glad there didn’t seem to be any painful transitions between the sizes, but he still didn’t want to risk Steve by having him do it again.

"Maybe… Bruce wasn't sure it would work, but - obviously it did, even if accidently - which I swear is true. And, of course, I know I didn't have to..." Steve ducked his head, "but, I wanted to, if it was a possibility."

Bucky rolled over and lay his head on Steve's shoulder, roles reversed now he'd gone back to his supersoldier size. It was nice. Familiar. Home.

"I wanted you to know who I am  _ and _ who I was, but this time around I could actually ensure you knew all of me, who you were sleeping with." Steve stalled a moment gathering his thoughts and Bucky looked up, kissing his jaw, loving the way Steve smiled softly. "This Buck, this is all I want - you and me. Forever."

"Same here punk. I've said it before and I need you to hear me now - no matter what your size I love you - just as you are. But I’m not so sure about this forever business."

Steve quirked an eyebrow, “Oh really?”

“If you keep leaving your stealth suit on the bathroom floor after missions, I’m going to explode. Do you know how hard getting blood out of grout is? And it’s not even yours half the time.”

“Oh, so you’d be fine if it was my blood?”

“Absolutely.” Bucky smirked, returning Steve’s grin, he was a sap. “Okay, forever sounds alright.”

Steve's eyes softened and Bucky sat up and kissed his lips, the pink slip of skin glistening as he moved back.

"Breakfast?" Steve asked with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah sure thing."

Bucky watched as Steve jumped out of bed unashamedly walking away from him gloriously naked. He still had to pinch himself that he got to have this, that this was his life. That he, James Buchanan Barnes had managed to get Steve Rogers, Captain America, to love him. 

Just as Steve got to the door frame he spun and crooked his finger "well come on - you  _ know  _ what I like for breakfast."

"God." Bucky breathed, and headed for the quickest and most thorough shower he could manage.

Life could not get any more perfect.

A year later when Steve proposed in Bulgaria when on a well earned holiday after taking down the last of Pierce’s Hydra sect, Bucky knew that nothing could ever come between them and that he’d found his home, with Steve. And if that wasn’t perfection then he didn’t know what was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smol Steve for the win!!
> 
> I honestly had no idea how this story would be received and I was absolutely thrilled when so many of you jumped onboard having no idea where it would go. It has been such a great experience and I have met some amazing people on the way.
> 
> Thanks to you all who read, kudoed, commented and bookmarked - it means the world that you enjoyed this. Special thanks to darter_blue (as always) it would not have seen the light of day if not for you and your amazing cheerleading skills! And one last thanks to Ilyone for the amazing artwork - I am still gobsmacked my words inspired such a gorgeous drawing. <3
> 
> For those of you interested in Steve's POV for some of the main scenes - I have made this a series and the first part is up (my idea of a quick one chapter wrap up suddenly turned into three chapters and the first hitting 10,000 words - so yeah - Steve really had a lot to contribute) Check it out if you want!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on either of the below - fairly new to the fandom circuit for social media so be gentle! :)
> 
> Tumblr -[ kalee60](https://kalee60.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter - @kalee60_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for The large and the smol of it by Kalee60](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663954) by [Ilyone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilyone/pseuds/Ilyone)




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